


Game of Secrets

by BecauseBraime



Series: Hidden & Chosen Family [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon divergence - Jaime doesn't push Bran, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Dany plays a heavier role around chapter 50, F/M, Is there a world where Jaime and Ned could almost get along?, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon plays a heavier role around chapter 46, King Jon Snow, Or rather he can't, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, not cersei friendly, secret Targaryens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 79
Words: 290,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: House Tarth has a big secret shared only with House Stark. Selwyn Tarth sends Brienne to Winterfell after her three failed betrothals and his uncertainty over what to do with his only living heir who fancies herself a knight. Unfortunately, that visit occurs at the same time King Robert is set to visit with House Stark. Secrets are discovered and deals are made between enemies."If you would keep your secret from an enemy, tell it not to a friend." - Benjamin Franklin
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark (background), Jaime Lannister & Barristan Selmy, Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Hidden & Chosen Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117769
Comments: 1555
Kudos: 828





	1. Bran I

**Author's Note:**

> This is taking place at the beginning of S1, so we know there are A LOT of other characters and subplots going on in Westeros (and beyond) at this time, but the focus of this fic is Jaime/Brienne. Please don't expect much in way of plot or excitement beyond that. Unlike the books/show, I won't spend much time exploring some of those other areas unless it impacts the J/B plot directly. Jaime & Brienne will be separated for a time in the middle of this fic (for necessity of plot), but of course... they always find their way back to one another. POV characters include Jaime, Brienne, Bran, Catelyn, Littlefinger.

Bran crept down the hallway of the Keep. Old Nan had chased him back to bed twice, but he was far from tired. Word had arrived of the visit from King Robert, and all the North was in a frenzy. The king and his escorting party were to arrive in a fortnight.

Tiptoeing down the hall, Bran heard the muffled voices of his parents inside their chambers. Bran hoped to slink by their room unnoticed and escape down the back staircase into the yards. Moving lithely down the hall, Bran inhaled sharply as he stubbed his tone on the edge of stonework that jutted out unevenly.

Holding his breath and swallowing the pain, Bran heard his mother’s raised voice.

“It isn’t safe for her, Ned!”

It wasn’t often that his mother raised her voice to their lord father. Bran’s curiosity was peaked, and he moved closer to the door. At his approach, Bran could hear his father speak calmly.

“What am I to do? She is already ten days out.”

Bran listened intently as his mother sighed. “It isn’t safe for her here with Robert soon to arrive. Gods, Ned. The last time we saw her, she had Rhaella’s pale features despite her father’s size. Robert might see some of Rhaella in her. He’ll kill her and we swore to protect her.”

Ned sighed. “Robert will not see Rhaella’s daughter in that child. I hate to say it, but the girl is homely, Cat. He will see little more than Selwyn’s unwedable girl. By the gods, their House is a vassal to Storm’s End! If Robert hasn’t questioned her by now, he won’t upon this visit.”

“Notice her!? Ned, she’s taller than anyone here save Hodor!”

“Exactly. Robert will see another of Dunk’s bastards when he looks upon her. The girl is all Tarth. And by the gods, tell Old Nan to stop with the stories when the king is here.”

Bran kept his ear pressed to the door. Inside, he could hear his mother sigh before speaking again. “I’m worried, Ned. We promised Old Nan and Lord Selwyn to protect this secret. What if the girl’s looks were just an awkward phase? What if she has changed and looks more her mother now?”

Ned chuckled. “Cat, come now. That would be _much_ change. I don’t think the gods have that much energy in them.”

Bran could hear his mother slap his father’s arm. “That’s a horrible thing to say. Be kind to the child. Lord Selwyn said the boys made a grand show of it at that ball years back. Then the last broken betrothal really made her the laughingstock of the island. She’ll never find a match.”

Moving away from the door, Bran’s mind ran wild.

_Brienne is a Targaryen? Not just any Targaryen… Rhaella’s daughter? How?_

Thinking better of sneaking out, Bran crept back to his room. He would forgo escaping into the yards that night, and instead wake early the next day to speak with Old Nan. He wouldn’t directly ask after Brienne’s lineage. After all, mother hated nothing more than sneaking around and spying. This felt different though.

_It wasn’t as though I intended to snoop. I only meant to get outside, and they wouldn’t keep quiet. It’s hardly my fault. I can’t be blamed for overhearing and seeing things as I move about my own home._

When Bran found sleep that night, he dreamed of Ser Duncan the Tall. Old Nan always told tales of her favorite knight. The knight who everyone assumed to be Nan's lover from whom Hodor descended, though whether that relationship was true or not was an answer lost with time.

Near a fortnight later, Bran stood outside with his family to greet the escort from Tarth. At Old Nan's request, Brienne and Hodor were brought together from time to time. She missed the legendary knight, Ser Duncan, and she enjoyed seeing his line live on.

Bran craned his neck to see the incoming escort. The Tarth sigil flapped in the wind, but Bran couldn’t see a carriage. Then he saw her. Riding ahead of her escort with her hair blowing in the wind and cheeks pink from the cool, northern air, Brienne entered the courtyard and dismounted quickly.

The staff promptly saw to her horse as Brienne approached nervously, offering a weak smile at Bran’s parents. Bran gasped at the size of her. In the time between visits, Brienne had grown impossibly taller. She also appeared much more homely than Bran recalled.

Brienne was taller than most men fully grown, and she had pale features that stood out in stark contrast to the Northern landscape. Her lips were too thick, her face pale and dotted in freckles, and her light blonde hair cropped shorter than most noblewomen would dare consider. The only redeeming feature she possessed were her stunning blue eyes.

Bran watched as Brienne approached and swallowed thickly. She bowed before Bran’s parents and mumbled a formal greeting. At the sight of her bow, Sansa snickered from down the line. The reaction was loud enough to reach their parents and Brienne.

At the response from Sansa, Brienne’s face heated and she averted her gaze to the ground. “Apologies my lord and my lady. I fear my attempts to curtsey have only worsened since we last met.”

Catelyn forced a smile, but Bran could see the strain in his mother’s features. Her eyes filled with pity for the girl before her and Ned grimaced at Catelyn’s side. A pang of sympathy spread through Bran.

Bran was a sensitive boy and hated seeing others made to feel poorly of themselves. Sansa could be harsh to those who didn’t conform; namely Arya. Arya and Bran were close in age and shared many interests. As frustrating as it was to see Arya outshine him when she crept into the yards, Bran loved his sister dearly and often took offense on Arya’s behalf when Sansa was in one of her snooty moods.

With a pointed glare at Sansa, Ned stepped forward and smiled at Brienne. “It’s good to see you Lady Brienne. Let me reintroduce you to the children. It has been some time and they’ve grown quite a lot.”

Guiding Brienne down the row, Ned introduced them all. Robb and Sansa appeared stunned at Brienne’s appearance, but Arya had an excited energy about her.

“I heard you train with a sword! Is it true?”

It was the first smile that spread across Brienne’s face since riding through the gates. “Yes, I do. The sword, bow and arrow, and morningstar.”

Hope danced in Arya’s eyes as she looked to Brienne in wonder. “Are you training to be a knight.”

“Of course she isn’t, Arya. Like you, Lady Brienne has a duty to her House.” Bran’s lord father brought the excited inquiry to a halt. Both Brienne’s and Arya’s expressions betrayed their dejection at the words.

Bran smiled warmly at Brienne. With an overdone bow, Bran smiled to Brienne. “It’s nice to see you, Lady Brienne.”

“Hello, Lord Bran. You’ve grown quite a lot.” Brienne’s eyes were as warm as the southern sun.

Ned directed Brienne’s attention to Rickon. “This young man was but a babe when you last saw him. Rickon, say hello to Lady Brienne.”

Rickon gawked at Brienne. “She’s big.”

The tension in Brienne’s body was palpable and she winced at the comment. “Hello, Lord Rickon.”

At Rickon’s words, Catelyn moved quickly towards Ned and Brienne. “Rickon Stark! Apologies, Brienne. Children Rickon’s age have yet to master social graces. They say all manner of things.”

“It’s alright, my lady. I’m used to it.”

Bran marveled at Brienne. For someone of her size, Brienne struck Bran as incredibly meek and lacking confidence. He wondered if that translated to the yards and she would fare no better than Hodor, or if she was truly Dunk’s great-grandchild as Old Nan’s tales described the great knight.

Over the next days, Bran watched from afar. Brienne trained with Robb, Theon, and Jon in the yards. It was a sight to behold as Bran watched his brothers spend more time acquainting themselves with the mud than in all their years combined.

It wasn’t until Theon’s words that she stopped joining the older boys to spar.

‘I’d mock you for getting bested for a woman, but I do believe she’s more beast than beauty.”

Bran didn’t care for Theon. The young ward from the Iron Island had an arrogance to him that irked Bran. Despite father’s teachings, there seemed to be no humbling Lord Balon’s last remaining heir. 

Soon the day arrived that Robert’s escort was observed in the distance riding through winter town and straight towards the Keep. Bran stood in line excitedly to meet the king and his family. The anticipation in the air was palpable, but his mother looked more anxious than ever. The worry lines at her eyes shone as brightly as did the dark circles underscoring them.

She had slept little in recent days. Often directing the castle staff in preparation for the king, Catelyn lacked for time to rest. Something or someone caught Catelyn’s attention.

“Brienne! Move behind Hodor, girl. Chin down.”

With a weak nod, Brienne moved towards the back behind Hodor and in line with the castle staff. She averted her eyes towards the ground; a sad expression on her face. It seemed a strange place to position a noblewoman, but Bran understood his mother’s worry.

Despite his mother’s effort, Brienne stood out like a sore thumb. Her hair shone brighter than the northern sun. Her clothing was blue where those assembled stood in their Stark greys and blacks. The young woman certainly wasn’t dressed for the weather. Where others stood in cloaks, she only wore a jerkin with the Tarth sigil at the breast.

Soon the royal party entered the gates and those assembled moved to a knee in a sign of respect for their king. Bran looked up through his lashes and appraised King Robert. He didn’t look half as impressive as the stories his father told. The king was certainly tall; shorter than Hodor, but of Brienne’s height. His belly was round from sedentary years, drink, and good food.

Unsurprisingly, it was his father’s first comment. Bran understood the close relationship between the king and his father. Proper respect was to be paid, but they had grown up together and shared a bond deeper than that of a lord to his king.

Robert and the queen made their way down the line. At Bran’s side, Arya fawned over the Kingslayer; a knight whose skill was as highly regarded as his reputation was broken.

_I should like to see him fight. Perhaps I can watch him train in the yards._

The Kingslayer looked as disinterested in the proceedings as his twin sister, the queen. He looked around the Keep with a snide smirk on his face. Something about the man unnerved Bran. There was an air of superiority sitting behind his disingenuous expression as he offered a weak smile towards House Stark.

Cersei’s disgust could hardly be masked. Thinking himself a sound judge of character, Bran felt immediate dislike for the queen. She spoke with contrived pleasantries and offered courtly smiles. There seemed to be no warmth behind her eyes.

Fortunately for Brienne and Bran's parents, the king seemed to have little interest in doing anything other than moving towards the crypts to pay his respects for his former betrothed, Lyanna Stark.

With dismissal from the king, the staff returned to the Keep and began carrying the royal family’s belongings to their assigned chambers. Before moving inside to oversee the staff, Catelyn turned to Brienne and spoke in hushed tones.

“Brienne, I meant you no offense. I just want to keep you _safe_. Why don’t you enjoy the fresh air for a while rather than sit inside? It isn’t Tarth, but perhaps the change of scenery will do you some good.”

With a small nod, Brienne spoke quietly in return. “Of course, my lady.”

“I’ll go with you! I can show you my favorite places! There are some excellent trees to climb, and… ” Bran moved quickly to Brienne’s side.

“No climbing, Brandon!” Catelyn scoffed and shook her head. An attendant moved towards Catelyn quickly with a question and directed her attention away from Brienne and Bran.

At Bran’s eagerness, Brienne smiled warmly. “Thank you. That would be nice.”


	2. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime comes cross Bran and Brienne playing in the woods. He overhears things that no one should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neglected to note in chapter 1 - we're going book age for everyone! So in 298AC, Brienne is about 18 and Jaime is 32.

Jaime wandered through the castle grounds. He had little desire to be around honorable Ned, and his honorable family, in his bloody, honorable castle. In truth, all Jaime wanted to do was appraise the grounds for areas to steal away with Cersei when Robert began to drink and whore about.

The journey north had been excruciating. The pace was slow, and the company dull. Jaime grumbled at Robert’s frivolous decisions leading up to and on the march north. The king was not interested in the comfort of inns. Instead, they camped in open fields where Robert drank and ranted about the _glory days_. While Robert hammered his way to the Iron Throne, he had a wife and three children to protect, yet he only took three Kingsguard to escort them.

_Three children indeed. My seed and his claim upon it._

Jaime cared for the children. He wished to protect them from harm as a knight and uncle should. Despite that, they never felt his. Even Tyrion was allowed closer proximity to the children than Jaime was. Cersei worried at people finding out the truth of the children’s lineage if Jaime stood too closely or cared too much.

Still, Jaime would give his life for Cersei and the children. He would do anything for Cersei. Wandering through the woods, Jaime heard voices drifting through the air. Glancing around, Jaime noted the distance from Winterfell. It was quite far off, and Jaime imagined the voices were merely that of lowborn children playing in the woods while their parents worked inside the castle.

The boy’s voice reached Jaime’s ears first. What he heard made Jaime take pause.

“How did they fake your death?”

A female voice responded, but she sounded winded unlike the boy.

“She birthed more stillborn children than living. It wasn’t such a stretch to think she birthed another dead. They had planned it for moons. We really shouldn’t speak of this, Bran.”

Jaime moved closer in silence. He ducked low so as to not be seen.

The boy’s voice spoke again. “No one ever comes out here. Sometimes Arya joins me, but lately father and mother force her to endure sewing lessons with Septa Mordane. Were your other siblings Queen Rhaella’s too?”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He felt his breathing still as he moved closer. Crouching behind some shrubbery, Jaime saw the pair in question. One of the Stark children was climbing a large tree while a massive woman did some drills with a sword.

Her face was flush from exertion as she slashed powerfully at an imaginary opponent. The hair atop her head had no place in the dreary north, and the flush of her pale skin spoke to her lack of acquaintance with the climate.

_She’s southern. Southern and ugly and monstrous. No way is she Rhaella’s daughter. Probably some fanciful tale her father told her to hide the fact that he bedded a whore. A whore the size of Ser Gregor himself._

Jaime narrowed his eyes as he considered the great beast before him. She looked young; likely late teens or early twenties. It was evident she had formal training with a sword, but Jaime wondered if the air before her was the only opponent she had ever felled.

Slowing her movement, the young woman looked up at Bran.

“No, they were not. They were my mother’s trueborn. I suppose that I’m my father’s great shame in many ways.”

There was something about the way she spoke that reminded Jaime of Tyrion. His younger brother had been Tywin’s shame. It pained Jaime to observe the way Tyrion was treated growing up. When he could, Jaime interceded and defended his brother. No one mocked Tyrion when Jaime was around lest they wished to taste their blood. Only Tywin and Cersei proved unstoppable where it concerned Tyrion’s protection.

“How did you father even know the queen?” The boy’s tone was as curious as Jaime felt.

“My House was close with the royal family on account of my great-grandfather. Ser Duncan brought my father and parents to court many times before Summerhall. My father and the queen were of the same age.”

_Ser Duncan the Tall!? Now that lineage I can believe. Gods. She truly is massive. Almost the height of the Hound._

Bran’s voice called down as he stilled on a tree branch. “Did he love her?”

“He did. He couldn’t save her from Aerys though.”

Jaime tensed at the words. It had been his greatest regret from his time in Aerys’ Kingsguard. Rhaella’s screams as the Mad King raped her would haunt Jaime for the rest of his days. If the words spoken were true, Jaime considered that he was staring at Rhaella’s daughter; a highborn bastard. A strange instinct to protect the girl before him crept into his core. True or false, she should not be speaking of such things so openly.

Taking a quick look around, Jaime could see no other signs of life save for the birds above. The castle was far enough away that no one would hear them speaking. Stepping from behind the shrubbery, Jaime strode confidently into the clearing.

“You’re quite a ways from the castle for two highborn.”

On instinct, the beast whirled and raised her blade. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Jaime and she swallowed thickly.

Whispering to Bran, the beast took a step backwards. “Bran. Get down.”

Jaime smirked and tilted his head as he appraised her grip on the hilt. He could disarm her in two moves; of that much he was certain.

“I’m a Kingsguard. If what I’ve heard is true, I should be the last person you fear.”

A cutting smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. The massive woman paled at the words.

“I didn’t mean it. It was a foolish jape. Just telling tales to a young boy.”

Bran jumped to the ground beside her. His horrified expression mirrored that of the monstrous woman next to him.

“Yes, it was only for fun. Quite dull here, really.”

Jaime’s eyes appraised the woman. She wore a light blue jerkin and tan breeches. As if her features weren’t enough to ensure she stood out, she wore an outfit that screamed of her lack of belonging in the North. Considering the sigil at her breast, Jaime spoke aloud.

“Quartered field. Moons and suns. Rose and azure. Tarth. Lord Selwyn Tarth. You’re his daughter. What is your name?”

The young woman glanced to Bran before looking back at Jaime. Jaime startled at her eyes. He had not noticed them before, but upon a vast expanse of ugliness sat the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Innocent and blue, her eyes made the sapphire sea surrounding her island look dull in comparison.

“Brienne.”

Unsheathing his blade and raising a brow at Brienne, Jaime spoke tauntingly. “Well _Lady Brienne_ , prove your words false. A true princess couldn’t defeat a knight of the Kingsguard. No lord would allow such training for his _heir_.”

Bran’s eyes went wide as he stared up at Brienne. For her part, the ungainly woman looked uncertain.

“I’m not fit to train with a Kingsguard, Ser. I’m… I’m just a woman.”

Taking a challenging step forward, Jaime stared more intently. “Do you know who I am?”

Then her eyes flashed with the look he knew all too well. _Kingslayer_. The woman tilted up her chin defiantly and her voice echoed off the trees. “Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer.”

“Daring girl. I usually only hear the name _behind_ my back. Shall we dance, my lady?”

Without awaiting her reply, Jaime lunged forward and tested her blocks. Bran dove out of the way and pressed his back flat against the tree had had been climbing. At Jaime’s unexpected attack, Brienne raised her sword high and blocked. The force took Jaime by surprise; his eyes widened in excitement and a pleased smile spread across his face.

They began to circle one another slowly. Jaime studied her with a confident smile on his face. Changing his footwork, Jaime noted how well she responded to his movements.

“You move well… for a great beast of a woman.”

Jaime surged forward again. This time, his movement was significantly faster. When she blocked the first blow, Jaime spun right and brought his sword to her neck.

_Not fast enough._

“Again.” Jaime growled the words. He had hoped for better, but she disappointed him.

_Dull. Massive, ugly, and dull._

They circled each other once more, but this time, the young woman surged ahead with a strike of her own. Yet again, the power in her swing surprised Jaime. Their blades came together and his own vibrated on impact. Jaime’s grip on the hilt was strong, but he could feel the slight tingle in his hand from her blow.

Moving faster, they exchanged strikes and parries. Jaime felt his blood sing as Brienne began to keep up with him. She was surprisingly skilled and responsive.

After a quick deflect of Jaime’s sword, Brienne lunged forward; a vicious scowl on her face. Jaime anticipated the blow and blocked quickly. Her blade clattered to the ground atop a pile of crimson and yellow leaves.

As she stood heaving before him, Jaime raised a brow. “Don’t grimace. It gives away the game.”

Reaching down to pick up her blade, Jaime barked at her. “Again. Try to be less bumbling about it.”

They sparred a while longer. Soon Jaime began to feel a light sweat at his brow. Their collective breathing sent puffs of condensation into the cool northern air. Deciding he had enough toying with the beast, Jaime unleashed a torrent of rapid blows. He was surprised by how well she blocked them. Most experienced knights would have fallen under his stream of attacks sooner.

Brienne gritted her teeth as her hands moved quickly to block the flurry of swings coming at her head and body. As she backed up rapidly, Jaime dropped his left hand from the hilt. He didn’t need the added grip; he was too quick and skilled for her. Though a more than worthy opponent, she had much to learn.

Her strength was impressive and beyond equal, but it was her technique that needed refinement. Jaime’s eyes dropped to a large tree root at her back. Backing up quickly, Brienne’s heel caught the edge and sent her falling backwards.

With a loud guffaw, Jaime placed the tip of his sword to her neck. “Yield?”

With the most expressive eyes Jaime had ever seen, the young woman looked up at him and nodded. He saw frustration and humiliation shining clear as the stars at night.

“Yield.”

Jaime sheathed his sword and extended a hand. “Hopefully my back won’t regret this courtesy on the morrow.”

The beast’s hand paused halfway to his. Her face flushed in embarrassment as she averted her eyes. Dropping her hand back at her side, Brienne stood quickly and picked up her sword. She began to walk past Jaime, but he grabbed her arm.

A light breeze cut through the woods before Jaime spoke. His tone held a dangerous edge as he stared at her. “No more of that talk about Queen Rhaella. You’re lucky it was me who overheard you and not someone else; particularly the king. That homely face of yours would sully the forest floor when his sword cuts through your neck.”

Releasing her arm, Jaime watched as Brienne moved quickly back to the castle.

_Ridiculous woman. She’ll get herself killed saying such things._

Jaime sighed and glanced to Bran. The young boy looked frozen in place as he stared up at Jaime. After a moment, the boy snapped from his stupor.

“You didn’t have to be so mean to her.”

An amused smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. Leaning down towards the boy, Jaime tilted his head condescendingly.

“You think _that_ was mean? You don’t want to see me mean.”

Bran’s eyes narrowed and he stood tall before Jaime. “You mocked her appearance and size. She can’t help those things.”

Jaime took pause at the words. An array of nasty comments flooded his mind, but the image of Tyrion was all Jaime could see. People mocked Tyrion for something he could no sooner control than Brienne could.

The boy was young and idealistic though; far too much Ned’s righteous attitude for Jaime’s taste. Bran didn’t understand the world as Jaime did. Sneering slightly, Jaime huffed a bitter laugh.

“This world is not forgiving towards those who don’t conform to its expectations. You’ll do well to remember that _little Ned_.”

“My name is Bran.”

Jaime began to walk away from the boy, but he took pause. Curiosity got the best of Jaime and he turned to appraise the young Stark. Bran’s face was downtrodden as he grumbled to himself. Capturing Bran’s attention, Jaime called out. “Why were you asking after her lineage?”

Bran’s eyes went wide like a child caught skipping out on lessons. “I… I was curious.”

“How did you come to know? Did she tell you?”

Shaking his head, Bran looked to his feet. “I overheard it being discussed.”

A deep unease coursed through Jaime as he scanned the area once more. Seeing no one, he moved closer to Bran. “Who knows?”

The boy’s nervousness was evident. It was clear he feared betraying someone. “I… I was snooping. Only my parents know. I didn’t think anyone could hear me asking questions out here. Please don’t tell them!”

Jaime shushed the boy and looked around once more. “She would be executed should anyone else find out. Do you understand me?”

Bran nodded quickly before looking back to the forest floor. He kicked at a rock with his toe as his face reddened. “Yes, Ser.”

Irritation flooded Jaime at the stupidity of the child. It seemed an awful time for the young woman to be visiting.

“Why is she here?” 

Bran looked up to meet Jaime’s inquiring eyes. “Her father sent her. He… doesn’t know what to do with her anymore. Too many broken betrothals.”

Jaime snorted. _Of course she has more than one broken betrothal._

“Well unless you wish for her body to be as broken as her past betrothals, I recommend you stop speaking of such things.”

Without another word, Jaime moved back towards the castle. The conversation between Bran and Brienne echoed in his mind. Images of Rhaella tormented him for the remainder of the day; her desperate eyes a plea for intervention.

_Can it be true? Is that mannish woman Rhaella’s daughter?_


	3. Brienne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne receives an unexpected sword lesson.

Brienne and Jon traded blows in the yard. The sound of laughter, mirth, and revelry drifted from the Keep. A grand feast was held to welcome the king and his family. Brienne felt as out of place as Ned’s bastard. The pair had been in the yard for an hour as the feast grew rowdier within the great hall.

“Gods. How did you get so good? Arya desperately wants to train, but Lord Stark won’t allow it.”

Brienne huffed a small laugh as she tried to steady her breathing. A light sweat dripped down her head and below her jerkin and tunic.

“When you have a face such as mine, it’s easier for a lord to overlook womanly expectations. My father and his master-at-arms trained me.”

Jon grimaced at the words and nodded. “Aye. I can empathize with feeling more an outcast at court than belonging.”

They circled each other once more and began to exchange blows. For the fifth time that hour, Brienne knocked Jon to the ground.

A voice called out from the shadows, catching Brienne and Jon by surprise. “They must be desperate for warm bodies at the Wall these days. I hope you do a better job guarding us against the grumpkins and snarks than you would a pack of noblewomen.”

At the sight of the Kingslayer cockily striding towards them, Brienne’s face scrunched in distaste. She stepped back slightly as though it was possible to be overshadowed by Jon who stood a full head shorter.

The Kingslayer’s eyes drifted to her. They sparkled with amusement and jest before settling on Jon. “Go on. Try again. I would wager you can’t disarm her let alone best her.”

Jon huffed in annoyance and glanced back at Brienne. Their eyes met and an apology shown on Jon’s face.

“I can’t. She’s better than me and I hardly see the shame in that. She’s not just _any_ noblewoman.”

The Kingslayer snorted and raised a challenging brow. “So I hear.”

The duel meaning was evident in his tone and Brienne felt panic set in once more. It was as though he was a lion toying with his prey before killing it. To Brienne, it seemed only a matter of time before he dragged her before Robert and divulged her secret.

A heavy silence hung over them as Brienne averted her eyes. Standing before them, Jaime spoke again.

“Go on. Spar. Don’t let me stop you. This will be far more entertaining than that awful feast. One of you needs to train for the Wall, and the other needs to train to ward off the _throngs_ of suitors vying for your hand.”

The words twisted in Brienne’s gut as a sword might. Brienne swallowed thickly as embarrassment coursed through her. She closed her eyes to calm herself, taking a steadying breath. Behind closed lids, Brienne saw a rose flying at her face. She saw the boys snickering at the ball. She saw a man of five-and-sixty chastising her.

Jon leaned close and whispered. “We don’t have to spar anymore if you don’t want.”

Shaking her head, Brienne opened her eyes and looked to Jon. “I don’t mind sparring a while longer if you like.”

The young man nodded and smiled warmly. His tone was quiet as he spoke once more. “Just ignore him. He’s trying to rattle us.”

With a small nod, Brienne moved back into position. She and Jon circled each other once more and began to spar. It wasn’t long before Brienne had disarmed Jon again. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yield.”

A presence at Brienne’s side caught her by surprise. The Kingslayer’s hand was on her wrist as she held the sword to Jon’s neck.

“Your grip is off. Stop holding it so low on the hilt.” As his hand clenched around Brienne’s wrist to encourage her hand open as his other hand maneuvered the hilt.

“You’re more powerful than most men. Holding this low only takes away from that advantage. Hold higher and roll your wrist towards the weakest point when you cut down. The power and angle will disarm him faster.”

At the new grip, Brienne pivoted her wrist as Jon stepped back. Brienne’s brows furrowed as she considered the adjustment. Moving back to his perch on the fence, the Kingslayer called out.

“And by the gods… stop grimacing when you lunge.”

The expression on Jon’s face was as surprised as Brienne’s. They lined up once more and Brienne tried to remember the Kingslayer’s advice. Beginning to circle Jon once more, Brienne tried to incorporate the advice as she rolled her wrist on the first strike. In half as many moves, Jon was disarmed.

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the outcome. The higher grip and adjustment to her wrist made a significant difference. A hum of approval came from the Kingslayer as he munched on something in his hand.

“Good. You still need to fix the scowl. Difficult… I know.”

Jon and Brienne sparred several more times. With each round, Brienne’s confidence grew, and she disarmed Jon more easily. It was on the last round that something caught the Kingslayer’s attention.

“What are you doing with your feet!? You look like a crippled bird. Stop pointing your toes in.” Stomping back towards them, the Kingslayer kicked at the inside of her foot.

“Move it out. You’re striking from the outside, so your foot should turn out. You’ll lose half your cut doing that. Move with the blade; not against it.”

Jon and Brienne were panting from the rounds of sparring. Looking to her feet, Brienne considered his words. The Kingslayer took a step back and appraised her stance.

“Swing again.” Brienne cut across from middle to left. Once more she was surprised at the improvement form the seemingly minor adjustment.

With a slight huff, Jon shook his head. “As much as I’m happy to let you keep thrashing me all night, I need a break.”

A loud groan pushed past the Kingslayer’s lips in response to Jon’s words. “Yes, by all means, go get some water. I do hope when the Wildlings attack, you don’t request a piss break.”

Unsheathing his sword, Jaime nudged Jon out of the way. He raised his sword at Brienne and tilted his head challengingly.

“How about another dance?”

As Jon backed away, Brienne glanced to him uncertainly. Jon retreated towards the fence and grabbed his waterskin. Turning back to the Kingslayer, Brienne slowly raised her sword. They began to move slowly. Brienne appraised his footwork and movement at his wrists. It was one of the things her father and Ser Goodwin taught her when facing an opponent.

Her father’s voice echoed in Brienne’s mind. _‘Three things give away an opponent in a swordfight. The eyes, the wrists, and the feet. You can’t read your enemy’s mind, but you can see the emotions swirling in their eyes. Are they confident, fearful, or desperate? Fear and confidence work to your advantage. Desperate does not. Desperate people are erratic and less predictable. Look at the wrists and feet. Which way are they moving? Will they charge ahead with force, or dance with finesse?’_

The Kingslayer’s eyes were confident. His feet and wrist moved with finesse. He would try to embarrass her once more as he did earlier. Trying to keep up with his movements proved difficult. Speed and finesse were not Brienne’s style. Her movements were brute force and her style methodical.

A slight spark in his eyes combined with the turn of his wrist and angle of his toes warned Brienne of the attack to come. He would swing from his right to left before unleashing another torrent of blows as happened earlier in the woods.

As he began to move, Brienne let the Kingslayer think her off-balance once more. Men were always underestimating her. They thought her witless and awkward; incapable of adapting to the opponent’s style or building upon her own. It earned her many victories on Tarth against her father’s guards.

The Kingslayer’s blade followed its anticipated path before his wrist began to roll and drag the blade back across. Using the adjustment to her wrist, Brienne quickly spun to deflect low before pivoting away and swinging for the Kingslayer’s neck.

Brienne’s movement caught the renowned knight unaware. He had expected her to move back on her heels and try to use force to block the blows as she did earlier that day. With her sword to his neck, her eyes narrowed in a combination of disdain and anger.

“Yield?”

A wide smile stretched across his face. Something sparked in his eyes as he looked to her blade.

“Yield. So you do learn. Here I feared too many years smacking your head atop archways might dull your mind. Again.”

They sparred for a while longer. With each round, Brienne grew more confident, but she did not come close to another victory. The Kingslayer was too skilled and he adapted as easily as Brienne. Despite that, she held her own.

It struck Brienne odd that he would take the time to help her train. Were it not for her father, no one would have trained with Brienne on Tarth. Her presence in the yards seemed more of a nuisance than welcome sight to the squires she trained alongside.

Even Tarth’s guards seemed unnerved by her presence. The Tarth soldiers who escorted Brienne north refused to practice with her along the way. They pretended at not wanting to upset Lord Selwyn if she was injured, but Brienne knew the truth of it. None of the men wished to train with her.

Since arriving at Winterfell, Brienne had not seen the men. They were requested to stay in winter town once the royal family arrived. They seemed more than happy to comply, and Brienne was pleased to get a break from her father’s guards.

Voices at Brienne’s back caught her attention. Lowering her sword, Brienne glanced over her shoulder to observe Jon speaking with a dwarf. Her brows furrowed at the sight. The man looked the part of a young lord in his crimson jerkin with the Lannister sigil at his breast. Whatever the man said appeared to provoke an uneasy reaction from Jon.

Moving past her, Jaime sheathed his sword and called out. “Brother. Headed to the brothels so soon? I would have thought you’d be bedding a serving girl by now.”

_Brother?_

The Kingslayer’s brother took a step forward; a snide smirk at his face. “It would seem they’re all a bit _occupied_ with his grace.”

From the corner of her eye, Brienne saw the Kingslayer’s shoulders tense. The atmosphere shifted as a momentary silence settled over the yards.

The shorter Lannister’s eyes moved slowly from the Kingslayer to Brienne. A questioning look stretched across his features before he brought his attention back to his brother. 

“I know I was a bit drunk for much of the journey north, but I don’t remember _that_ one joining us. Clearly she is not of the North, though she has the height to rival the Wall.” The man’s eyes scanned Brienne’s attire. His mouth moved slowly as though reading foreign words in a book.

“Tarth… I daresay I’ve never seen that sigil on the mainland.”

Brienne stiffened and her heart raced. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime’s eyes narrowed before turning back to his brother.

“You know how vassals can be. Desperate to get the ear of their liege lord. I imagine Tarth is here to petition the king over some Stormlands matter. Quite dull.”

Without another word, the Kingslayer moved towards the castle and grabbed his brother. “Come along, Tyrion. Lets see if we can wrestle one of the serving girls away from the king for you.”

Relief flooded Brienne as she walked towards Jon. His face was riddled with confusion as he watched the Lannister brothers move back into the castle.

“That was… unexpected. You just got a private sword lesson from Ser Jaime Lannister, and I just got a life lesson from his brother.”

Brienne followed Jon’s eyeline to the retreating figures of the men in question. “What did his brother say to you?”

Jon sighed and shook his head. “He said never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you. He said…”

Taking pause, Jon’s brows furrowed as he spoke. “All dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes.”

_Then I suppose that made three bastards in this yard tonight._

The next day, Brienne rose from bed with sore limbs. She had trained more at Winterfell than an entire week on Tarth. Further, she trained with the Kingslayer; one of the greatest living swordsman. Washing quickly, Brienne moved through the castle and towards the yards. With an apple in hand, Brienne moved through the courtyard and took small bites of the tart fruit.

It was a crisp morning with few clouds in the sky. The sound of clanging swords cut through the stillness of daybreak. From prior days at Winterfell, Brienne assumed it was likely Robb and Theon sparring before the castle came to life. The two young men were often the first to begin their training each morning.

With a small smile on her face at the thought of using her new techniques on the boys, Brienne felt a spring in her step as she moved forward. Since Theon’s insult, Brienne had not joined Robb and Theon in the yards. Now, she wondered if she might try again. As she moved closer, Brienne saw Robb and Theon watching from the fence.

Moving to their side, Brienne appraised the men training. The three Kingsguard and the Hound had taken over the space. The four men were lined up against one another as they would a melee. Brienne watched in fascination as they moved gracefully around one another; all except the Hound.

Like Brienne, the Hound’s style was more brute force than finesse. He grunted and shoved where a swordsman like the Kingslayer spun and sidestepped with little effort. At her side, Theon and Robb whispered praise for the men’s skill.

_The Kingslayer is the best of the four. The others aren’t that impressive given their station._

Soon, it was down to the Hound and the Kingslayer. It was an incredible match to watch, though Brienne was hardly surprised to hear the Kingslayer taunting the Hound.

_Cocksure. Rude. Kingslayer._

“Come on Sandor. Your brother shits more forcefully than that.”

With a loud grunt, Sandor kicked the Kingslayer hard in the gut; doubling him over. Theon snickered loudly at Brienne’s side and caught the Kingslayer’s attention. Before the Hound could land a winning blow, the Kingslayer spun right quickly and had the Hound disarmed in three moves.

The Hound’s gruff voice called out as he looked to the sword at his neck. “Fucking cunt! Yield.”

Jaime’s eyes were fixed on Theon. There was dangerous glint to his expression as his jaw hung open slightly in consideration. Pointing his sword at Theon, the Kingslayer smirked viciously.

“You’re Balon’s son. Aren’t you?”

Theon’s smile faded as he nodded in affirmation. The Kingslayer took a step closer; his eyes narrowed on his target. “I wonder. Do you think yourself as impressive as your father?”

Brienne swallowed thickly and looked to Theon. His face paled at the question. From the limited exposure Brienne had to the young man, she believed Theon to be overly confident and arrogant. His reaction to the Kingslayer stood in stark contrast to the young man who Brienne spent the past week observing.

From Theon’s side, Robb grumbled. “Easy, Theon. Don’t incite him.”

Calling out hesitantly, Theon spoke just loud enough to be heard. “No, my lord.”

With the other Kingsguard and the Hound at Jaime’s back, he tilted his head in consideration. Something flashed in his eyes as he glanced to Brienne. Glancing over his shoulder with a spreading smile, Jaime looked back at her.

“Lady Brienne. I wonder. You’re almost the size of the Hound, but can you beat him in a spar? I think you could beat any of these men here.”

At the words, Ser Meryn snorted and growled at Jaime. “She’s a girl! An ugly one at that. Take your victory with dignity and leave us be.”

Jaime snapped at the man, catching Brienne by surprise. “You and Boros the Belly over there couldn’t disarm her if you tried. I’d wager a gold dragon on that.”

At the challenge, Ser Meryn’s eyes sparkled. “A gold dragon to beat an ugly girl around the yards? Have you lost your mind?”

Without awaiting Jaime’s reply, Meryn pointed his blade at Brienne. “You! Girl! Come here and let me show you why women should stick to a needle and not a sword.”

Brienne startled at the words. She looked to Theon and Robb uncertainly, but they refused to make eye contact. Standing cockily with his sword swinging at his side, the Kingslayer called out.

“Come now, Lady Brienne. I have a bet to win. I so enjoy adding to House Lannister’s purse.”

Stepping forward uneasily, Brienne’s eyes darted to the Kingsguard and the Hound at the Kingslayer’s back. As she neared, the Kingslayer took a step forward and spoke for her ears only.

“His left side is weakest, and he grimaces worse than you when he lunges.”

Before Brienne could think better of the situation, Ser Boros, the Hound, and the Kingslayer had retreated to the fence. The facial expression on Ser Meryn’s face looked no different than anyone else who laid eyes on Brienne. Repulsion.

As Brienne drew her sword, he sneered. “Girls shouldn’t be playing at knights. When this is done, go find your dress and then come talk to me.”

Brienne’s face scrunched in distaste. The man before her was no true knight and he sullied the white cloak as much as the Kingslayer. Knights were meant to protect the innocent, act with honor, and behave respectfully.

Ser Meryn’s words reminded Brienne of her last betrothal. Ser Humfrey Wagstaff had threatened to chastise her if she dared to don breeches or pick up a sword. The emotional wound was still too fresh and raw. Something snapped in Brienne as she lined up across from Ser Meryn.

Unlike the day prior where her movement against the Kingslayer was more calculated and conservative, Brienne surged forward in a rage. In an instant, Ser Meryn was back on his heels; eyes wide in shock. Brienne unleashed a torrent of blows. She spun left and right before the man had time to think.

As she knocked Ser Meryn’s sword from his hand, Brienne flipped the grip on her sword to smash the hilt into the side of Ser Meryn’s neck. The Kinsguard fell to the ground and clutched his throat as he struggled to catch his breath. With the point of her sword at his neck, Brienne growled at him.

“Yield?”

Ser Meryn snarled and punched the ground in anger, but he nodded in concession. Glancing to the men at the fence, Brienne noted the surprise on their faces. For his part, the Kingslayer’s jaw hung open in shock. He appeared in a trance as he glanced between Ser Meryn and her.

A heavy silence fell over the yard as Ser Meryn sat upright and steadied his breathing. The Kingslayer shifted on his feet and cleared his throat before shaking his head slightly. He took cautious steps forward as his eyes settled on Brienne; a question on the tip of his tongue. When he spoke, there was uncertainty in his voice.

“That is a Kingsguard.”

The realization hit Brienne. She backed away slowly and stammered an apology.

_Gods. They’ll truly execute me now. I struck a Kingsguard._

“I’m sorry, Ser. I didn’t mean…”

Jaime guffawed and bent at the waist in a fit of laughter. “That’s a gold dragon for me, Ser Meryn. That _girl_ shut you up. Perhaps you should give her your white cloak.”


	4. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tables turn and now Brienne and Bran learn a secret about the Kingslayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW content ahead.  
> Warning: Even worse than NSFW content... twincest NSFW content (BARF)
> 
> I'm sorry Braime readers, but this had to happen. I hated writing it, but I sprinkled some hard truths in there for Jaime to eventually figure out. Note: In this fic, this is the first AND last twincest f*ck. And yes... "f*ck" because that is all those two ever did. There is never any true love there AT ALL. 
> 
> Now I need to go cleanse. Awful chapter. It's such an awful chapter, that I hope to double post later today if I can find time to edit.

The morning sun reflected brightly on Brienne’s hair as she surged forward like a woman possessed. When she knocked Ser Meryn to his worthless ass in fewer moves than Meryn had heartbeats between strikes, Jaime’s cock grew half hard at the sight.

The past day had unmoored Jaime. What started as a fascination with the giant woman holding a sword was growing into an alarming physical reaction to her presence. Shock coursed through Jaime’s body and mingled with a strange desire that he could not place.

_ I’ve been without Cersei for too long on this trip north. When Robert rides out for his hunt later, I’ll bring Cersei to that ruined tower I happened upon.  _

Soon, the men cleared out from the yards and made their way inside. Robert was never an early riser, and the Kingsguard found it the best time to train on the journey north.

Moving through the Keep, Jaime smirked and glanced back at Meryn. There was a giant red spot at his throat where Brienne’s sword hilt met skin. With a snort, Jaime raised a brow.

“It looks like you’ve had a tavern girl sucking at your throat all night.”

Meryn’s face reddened with rage. He spoke through gritted teeth as he tried to keep his voice low. “You set me up. That’s no girl. There’s likely a cock between those legs.”

Something sparked in Jaime and halted his progress forward. Of all the Kingsguard, Jaime respected Meryn the least. He was a cruel man with a perverse taste for young, innocent women that Jaime could not tolerate. Something about the man was deeply unsettling, and Jaime didn’t want Meryn going anywhere near Brienne. Jaime rounded on the other Kingsguard, and Meryn stopped quickly to avoid collision. 

“Lest you wish to lose your hands, I’d keep your curious fingers far away from Lady Brienne’s breeches. You’ve had a taste of what she could do to you.”

There was an edge to Jaime’s tone that saw the blood drain from Meryn’s face. With venom in his voice, Jaime spoke tersely to his sworn brother.

“Don’t forget you owe me a gold dragon.”

Ser Meryn snarled, and his brows furrowed angrily. With the height advantage Jaime had on the man, Meryn had to tilt his chin up to meet Jaime’s eyes.

“I don’t have a gold dragon.”

Towering over Meryn, Jaime leaned down. “Odd. I do recall you accepting my wager. I trust you’ll find a gold dragon soon enough. It would be a shame if we had to sell off some of your House’s lands to honor the gamble. Nothing vexes House Lannister more than someone not paying their debts.”

Jaime didn’t wait for Meryn’s response before he turned and continued his movement forward. When they arrived at Robert’s door, Jaime took position outside. Ordinarily they would never leave the king’s room unguarded, but this was hardly a situation that called for constant monitoring.

Robert and Ned had a friendship that only intensified Jaime’s distaste for the pair. The king may as well have been at Storm’s End for the level of hospitality, protection, and respect he was shown in the North.

Argumentative voices from inside the room signaled Cersei’s lingering presence while Robert readied for his hunt. A knot twisted in Jaime’s core as he considered it. All his life, Jaime stood guard as abusive and undeserving men took advantage of women he cared for.

Jaime thought Rhaella a good woman. There was a kindness to her that Jaime instinctively wanted to protect. Still, that desire to protect Rhaella paled in comparison to what Jaime felt for Cersei. His twin and lover was the very beating of his heart. There was nothing Jaime wouldn’t do to protect Cersei.

The door to the room opened abruptly and Robert stormed into the hallway. With a quick appraisal of the guards, Robert grunted. His eyes lingered on Jaime with disdain. “Fucking Lannisters. I can’t get away from you.”

The king’s eyes moved towards Meryn and Boros. “The two of you. Lets go. Time for my hunt. I don’t want any gods damned crimson and gold ruining the day.”

As Robert barked at the men, Jaime’s eyes drifted inside the king’s assigned chambers. Jaime had shared with Cersei the discovered location the night prior. When his eyes met hers, a wordless conversation passed between the twins. His cock stirred at the look in her eyes, and with a sly smile, he made his way outside.

The hunting party moved out quickly as Jaime stood in the courtyard. Castle staff rushed back inside to clean up after the morning meal, but Jaime had an appetite of a different variety. 

With the last of the destriers kicking up mud from the yards, Jaime moved quickly towards the tower. His time with Cersei was always hurried; quick fucks in hidden corners and dark rooms. The only time that Jaime truly savored his twin was when she came to him at Eel Alley.

Even then, the night seemed a blur. She roused him several times from sleep until any thought of the Rock had slipped into the sea and drifted away with the tides. His lust for Cersei was reckless and consuming. It had always been that way for them. They were too Andal to condone the Targaryen practice of incest, but too destined for one another to resist the urge.

Before stepping into the tower, Jaime glanced around. With no one in sight, he moved quickly inside and ascended the winding steps. His heart began to pound in anticipation. Fighting and fucking. Those were the moments in which Jaime came to life.

As he reached the last step, Jaime saw her. Cersei’s body was one that Jaime could recognize anywhere in a sea of humanity. The curves of her body were as known to him as the feel of his own cock. Moving towards Cersei quickly, the twins melted into one.

Fabric was sloppily pushed out of the way and their breath mingled together in the rundown tower. Their passion was explosive and often felt more a physical struggle than sweet caress. There was a desperation to his movements that made Jaime feel as though he was spiraling out of control. It wasn’t until Jaime pushed into Cersei that he felt relief.

With Cersei before him and on all fours, Jaime pounded into her. He reached for her face, but she swatted him away and guided his hands where she wanted them. An incorrigible hand reached out for her jaw, but Cersei fought Jaime every step of the way, wanting only her pleasure to be met first before Jaime found her lips.

Cersei always wanted things her way when they came together. She commanded Jaime when and how to touch her. She let him sample, but never devour. It maddened Jaime and made him want her that much more.

Driving into Cersei, Jaime grabbed her hips desperately. The sound of their bodies slapping together was louder than their combined panting. At Cersei’s unwillingness to let him kiss her lips, Jaime closed his eyes and tried to picture her as he did in his dreams.

In Jaime’s visions, he savored the image of Cersei below him on the grass at the Rock. They would take their time in his visions. Jaime would lean down and kiss her lips gently. The contrived images reflected Jaime’s preferred coupling that was never granted in life.

Jaime longed for tenderness with his love that he was never allowed to express in reality. The twins always fucked like beasts; just as those they once imitated in youth. Jaime longed to settle between Cersei’s legs and take her gently. As the vision played out behind closed lids, Jaime pulled back his head to look deep into Cersei’s eyes.

Jaime startled when he saw sapphire eyes staring back at him. Snapping his eyes open in the tower, Jaime looked down at his sister’s golden hair cascading down her back.

_ What the fuck was that? _

Then Cersei stilled below him. Her hand slapped at Jaime’s thigh and she spoke frantically through gritted teeth. Following Cersei’s eyes, Jaime noted a figure in the window. Bran Stark was wide-eyed and staring. He looked as frozen in place as he did the day prior in the woods.

_ Fuck! _

Running at the boy, Jaime grabbed him by the jerkin and hauled him onto the sill.

“Are you completely mad?”

The boy was shaking under Jaime’s hand. Bran frantically grabbed at the vines growing along the tower and fearfully glanced between the twins.

“He saw us!” Cersei called out from behind Jaime as she sat back on her heels, clutching at her skirts. 

It didn’t warrant responding to. The comment was like stating the sky was blue or the sea salty. Driven by panic, Bran swayed to his right and nearly fell from the window. Jaime steadied him on instinct and considered the situation.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Cersei called out again, but this time there was a demand in her tone. “He saw us!”

_ So do something about it. _

Irritation brewed in Jaime as he glanced slightly over his shoulder. “I heard you the first time.”

Jaime understood what he had to do, and he hated himself for it. If being caught only meant death for him, Jaime would offer his head. This went well beyond Jaime’s safety, however. Cersei and the children would be executed at his side. Jaime couldn’t allow that. Self-loathing spread though Jaime’s body as his hand twitched over Bran’s shirt.

“Quite the little climber, aren’t you?”

Bran steadied as Jaime felt his fingers dance over the boy’s jerkin.

“How old are you  _ little Ned _ ?”

Swallowing thickly, Bran responded with worry heavy in his tone. “Ten.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Jaime’s lips as he repeated the word. “Ten.”

Looking back at Cersei, Jaime saw the fear in her face. They had been reckless before, but never this reckless. Her face was a plea for action and Bran’s chest panting under his palm a solution.

_ Just a little shove. You’re already the most hated man in Westeros. What’s one more stain upon the white cloak?  _

Jaime’s fingers began to curl before the inevitable shove to Bran’s sternum. It was the hand that shoved his sword through Aerys back. It seemed his hand was destined to kill on two extremes; the utterly mad and the painfully innocent. Then he heard  _ her _ voice.

“Bran!? I told you to get down! Your mother said no climbing!”

The sound of Brienne’s voice sent a chill down Jaime’s spine. Glancing over the window’s edge, Jaime’s eyes met Brienne’s. Her voice called up just loud enough to reach Jaime’s ears.

“Oh, thank the gods. You’ve got him. I’ll come up.”

_ Oh fuck. _

Jaime’s eyes went wide, and he glanced to Bran who was frozen in place. Then Jaime had an idea.

_ A secret for a secret. _

Pulling Bran hard into the room, Jaime saw Cersei stand in a blind rage. She hissed at Jaime for being weak.

“You’ll kill us all, you coward!”

Glaring at Cersei, Jaime felt his own chest heave with anger. It was hardly the first time Cersei chastised Jaime when his actions didn’t align to her every whim. Admittedly, this was the most extreme situation they had yet to find themselves in. The small space seemed to shrink in on Jaime as he looked to Bran.

Bending down, he looked the boy in the eyes. “Listen to me  _ little Ned _ , you recall our little conversation about keeping our mouths shut? What you’ve just seen never leaves this tower.”

Before he could continue, Cersei launched herself at Jaime. She slapped him hard across the face with everything she had. Grabbing Cersei’s hand, Jaime squeezed her wrist.

“Enough! I’m dealing with the boy, now fix your bloody skirts.”

The distraction was just enough for Bran to break free of Jaime’s grasp and go running down the stairs. He screamed as his footsteps echoed throughout the tower.

_ Seven hells! _

Jamie shoved past Cersei and took off after the boy. As he reached the doorway, it occurred to Jaime that he was half-dressed. Quickly returning for his jerkin, Jaime frantically laced his breeches and ran down the stairs after Bran.

His heart was racing and his mind awhirl. No matter the cost, Jaime couldn’t let Bran divulge what he had seen. When Jaime stepped out from the tower, he saw the backs of Brienne and Bran in the distance as they ran towards the Keep. With a grunt of irritation, Jaime ran after them. The pair looked back over their shoulders at Jaime’s approach.

“Stop!”

Jaime chased the pair into the castle. He shoved past castle workers carrying soiled linens and dishes from the hall. Ignoring their angry shouts, Jaime closed the gap between the pair he was pursuing. They moved quickly into a room and the shouting began.

Ramming through the door before they could bar it, Jaime saw Lady Catelyn standing in shock before Bran and Brienne. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed herself in front of Bran.

“Why are you chasing my son and our guest through the Keep!?”

Shutting the door behind him, Jaime eyed the panting pair. Brienne looked uncertain, but Bran appeared frightened.

“I saw him! I saw him and the queen!”

Narrowing his eyes at Bran, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth. “I was having a conversation with my sister and you were  _ snooping _ . What did your mother tell you about snooping  _ little Ned _ ?”

Without taking her eyes off Jaime, Catelyn questioned her son. “What did you see Bran? No lies now!”

“I saw him doing things to her. The thing I wasn’t supposed to see you and father doing.”

Catelyn grimaced and her face reddened slightly. It was obvious what the boy meant and Jaime felt himself pale. After her initial embarrassment passed, Catelyn recoiled at Bran’s words. The faces of the women turned sour at the information. Taking a steadying breath, Jaime cast an accusatory finger at Bran.

“You shouldn’t spread such dangerous rumors, little Ned. I do believe we discussed the danger in that yesterday, did we not? I would hate to have to spread rumors about your  _ guest _ . Rumors that would see Robert’s war hammer smash into that homely face of hers. He doesn’t take kindly to Targaryens… trueborn or  _ bastards _ .”

Catelyn’s face was a northern storm brewing over the mountains. She rounded on Bran and Brienne and began to scold them.

“What have you done!? What did you tell him!?”

Brienne stammered and backed up slowly. “I’m sorry, my lady. I… I didn’t mean it. I… it’s my fault. I should have denied it.”

Hanging his head in shame, Bran shook his head. “I was snooping, mother. I’m sorry.”

Catelyn rounded on Jaime. Her face flamed with more hate than Jaime had ever seen cast his way. Their opinions hardly mattered to him. It was their silence that Jaime wanted.

“First you commit a crime against your king, and now you commit a crime against the gods. Have you no shame?”

A snide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he held Catelyn’s stare. “Not particularly. Are you jealous, Lady Stark? Hoping to break your own vows just as your husband did? Sorry. Not interested.”

Catelyn’s lips curled in distaste. “I want you out of my home. Now!”

“Oh, are you planning to demand that our king leave? As much as I would love to leave this dreary kingdom, I’m somewhat beholden to it for as long he continues to eat, drink, and whore his way through it. I am a Kingsguard after all.”

Catelyn took a step forward, her finger aimed at Jaime and a scowl on her face. “We know what you’ve done. You killed Jon Arryn.”

_ What? Killed Jon Arryn? _

“Well I’ve been a  _ very _ busy man it would seem. I’m flattered that you think I have time to accomplish so much, but sadly, I cannot take credit for that. Now as to this matter, I trust the three of you will keep your mouths shut if you wish me to do the same.”

“No.” Brienne’s voice called out timidly from the rear of the room. “I’ll admit it to King Robert. My death is a small price for the truth.”

Jaime’s head snapped to Brienne. Shock and panic dueled for dominance as he considered his next move.

_ How the fuck can I kill them all and get away with it? Half the bloody castle staff watched me run in here like a madman. _

Considering the matter, Jaime concluded that the safety of Cersei and the children was worth it. Jaime reached for the hilt of his sword knowing that only his head would fly later that day with Cersei nowhere near the room they currently occupied. Before he could unsheathe his sword, Catelyn spoke commandingly.

“You will do no such thing, Brienne! The pair of you out! Go to your rooms and stay there. By the gods if either of you speak another word of this, I’ll have your heads myself. Do you understand?”

Bran and Brienne nodded and moved quickly past Jaime. He had little desire to see them leave the room without knowing the matter settled. It unnerved Jaime that the beast of a woman from Tarth would so willingly sacrifice her life for justice.

Glancing back at Catelyn, Jaime saw disgust cloud her features. “Sit.”

Without awaiting his response, Catelyn moved to a chair behind a desk in the corner of the room. On the opposite site, she waved at the open chair dismissively before leaning back and crossing her arms.

Moving to the seat, Jaime sat down and raised a brow. An array of quips danced on his tongue, but he held them back. The most important thing was seeing to the safety of his kin.

The rage radiating off Catelyn was palpable. If Jaime wasn’t so concerned about the truth getting out, he might have been amused by it. Mirroring her posture, Jaime crossed his arms and raised a challenging brow. Taking pause, Catelyn moved to speak.

“You chose to do vile things that place you in this position. Brienne did not. She is an innocent.”

Jaime snorted. “An idiotic innocent if she allows a loose tongue to place her in such a position. Seems she did choose that for herself.”

“If word ever gets out about Brienne’s lineage, by the gods, I will tell all of Westeros of you and your sister. I’ll not stop until every man, woman, and child looks upon the royal family and knows that those children are just as much bastards as Brienne. It’s a curious thing how _very_ _golden_ King Robert’s children are. Not a single Baratheon feature. It makes sense now. Stay away from my children and Brienne for the rest of King Robert’s stay.”

Standing from his seat, Jaime bowed sarcastically. “As you wish, Lady Stark. I’m curious though… whose features do you suppose Jon Snow has? Your husband’s or his whore’s? Strange to think a babe  _ must _ look like the father.”


	5. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne leaves Winterfell to return home. The journey is not as she planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Jaime II).

The stay at Winterfell had been dreadful. Where Brienne had hoped to find reprieve from the disappointed stares and unrealistic expectations she faced on Tarth, she instead found herself thrust into a dangerous game threatening more than her ability to make a match.

After Lord Stark agreed to take the role as Hand, the king wanted to move south immediately. Ned thought it best for Brienne to journey with the king’s escort to take advantage of safety in numbers, and that was how Brienne now found herself among Tarth’s guards at the rear of the king’s escort.

Two days prior after the discovery at the tower, Lady Catelyn had pulled Bran and Brienne aside and expressed the importance of minding their tongues. Catelyn would not tell Ned of Bran’s discovery for fear of causing unnecessary change in his behavior towards the royal family. 

They were to keep the Kinglsayer’s secret so that Brienne may keep her life. It felt wrong to Brienne. Her life felt inconsequential where it concerned the realm. As she sat beside Bran before Lady Catelyn, Brienne questioned the Stark matriarch. 

_ ‘If the children are not King Robert’s, surely they should not be heir. Why would we not be honest? Had my younger, twin sisters not died, I would not expect to rule Tarth someday. I am not trueborn.’ _

Like House Stark, House Tarth held duty and honor in the highest regard. Lies were considered as poor form as the crimes they meant to cover. An irony considering Brienne’s secretive beginnings. Aside from the lie of Brienne’s lineage, Brienne never knew her father to lie. He faced the consequences of his actions and words head on.

While Brienne knew that she could not disclose her illegitimacy to Tarth, if she had trueborn siblings, she would merely step aside when the time came and claim herself ill-suited to rule. 

Lady Catelyn had sighed and shaken her head.  _ ‘Sweet summer child, just as King Robert would kill you for merely existing, he will kill Cersei, the Kingslayer, and those children for this crime. The world isn’t so kind as you, Brienne. Their lives are just as much at risk as yours.’ _

Brienne was shocked at the words. The children were innocent in it all. While Brienne’s existence could be a perceived threat to King Robert, Brienne believed the king to have an emotional attachment to the children. They did him no harm despite their parents' sins.

_ Surely King Robert would be angry, but would he truly kill them all? Why not send Queen Cersei to the Silent Sisters? Why not send Ser Jaime to the Wall? The Lannisters support him and they’ve protected him. _

Brienne considered Lady Catelyn’s words and understood the need to go along with the uneasy truce. In addition to innocents being unjustly punished, Brienne did not wish to risk her father’s life. 

_ I can’t let them harm my father. He is an accomplice in this, and then Tarth will lose their lord. Their Evenstar.  _

Then there was House Stark to consider. They had knowingly kept Selywn’s secret hidden. The more Brienne thought about it, many people would die if she didn’t keep quiet. Brienne would guard her tongue, not for her own life, but for others. 

The day Brienne had left Winterfell with Lord Stark, members of his household, and King Robert’s escort. Lady Catelyn had fretted over Brienne as though she was a Stark herself. The memory was one that Brienne tried to hold onto as she rode atop her horse.

_ One day prior _

Brienne squeezed Bran tightly and smiled at the young boy who she had bonded with. He overlooked her unsightliness and offered kindness when others only offered scorn. Brienne and Bran had agreed to write to one another when she returned home. They shared many interests, and Brienne was convinced the young boy would grow to become a great knight.

Stepping back from Bran, Lady Catelyn approached and cupped Brienne’s face in her hands. They were soft, warm, and gentle. Inwardly, Brienne wondered if Princess Rhaella had ever held her tenderly. She wondered if Lady Tarth had ever gazed warmly upon her, or if she looked upon her as cooly Lady Catelyn looked upon Jon. If she closed her eyes and pretended, Brienne could imagine a world where she had a maternal figure who loved her.

Catelyn’s eyes were soft as she looked into Brienne’s. “You hold your head high. You are not a jape, Brienne. Someday, you’ll find a match.”

The words were meant to provide support, but Brienne knew the truth. It was the reason she had been sent north to begin with. Her father was a man lost. The gods had taken his trueborn children and left him with a child not fit to be a son or daughter.

Brienne nodded at Catelyn in reply; a sad smile at her lips. “Yes, my lady.”

Now as Brienne rode at the rear of the escort, she listened to the Stark girls squabble from inside their carriage. It was Sansa who Brienne related to and shared interests with, but the eldest daughter of Lady Catelyn looked to her as most noblewomen did; uncertainty. 

Sansa spoke with honeyed words and courtly formality. She was the epitome of all that Brienne could never be. Beautiful, graceful, and well-spoken.

By contrast, Arya had accepted Brienne immediately. The younger Stark assumed Brienne’s desires were for a soldier’s life and little more. Her skill with a blade, allowance for training, and mannish appearance only supported Arya’s false assumption.

Had either girl taken the time to know Brienne, they would see how little her rough exterior reflected her true nature. Brienne longed to wed and have babes of her own. She enjoyed reading tales as most young girls did. Tales of the handsome knight coming to rescue the maiden fair. It wasn’t many years into Brienne’s life when she realized that would never happen for her.

Resolving to be her own knight, Brienne allowed only for the maidenly fantasies of her mind. She clung to the few happy memories she had from her childhood. In her dreams, Brienne was delicate and beautiful. Renly Baratheon would twirl her around the dancefloor at their wedding feast. They would have many babes to dote upon. Inwardly, Brienne knew the dream was frivolous.

Brienne heard rumors that Renly fancied men, and even if he didn’t, Renly would never sully himself by considering a match as homely as her. Instead, Brienne hoped to serve Renly. She had inquired about offering her sword as a guard at Storm’s End before leaving Tarth. It was the request and subsequent fight it caused that saw Lord Selwyn send Brienne to Winterfell.

Her father’s advisors urged Selwyn to take another wife. To birth a child capable of marrying and continuing the Tarth line. The urgency with which Brienne was sent north felt as much for her father to clear his mind as it was a chance for Brienne to take respite from the island.

That evening when their escort stopped for the day, Brienne moved into the woods to find a clearing to train. Without Robb or Jon, Brienne had no one to spar with. The handful of Tarth guards who had accompanied her north refused to indulge her. Instead, the guards kept to themselves and cursed their luck for playing escort to Lord Selwyn’s mannish daughter.

Unsheathing her sword, Brienne began her drills as she did every other night. The night was cool and the sky cloudless. After drilling for some time, Brienne laid on the ground and stared up at the night sky. It was the one constant in the world.

No matter where Brienne went, she could count on the stars to be there. Even on cloudy nights when they could not be seen, the stars were there. Brienne longed to have something so constant in her life. No one much bothered with her on Tarth. The only figure she could not shake was that of her wretched Septa. The woman had left Evenfall after Brienne’s last broken betrothal, but the emotional damage remained.

The next few days of travel were more of the same. Brienne would ride at the rear of the lines and move into a small clearing at night to train. During the day, the escort stopped briefly to rest. Brienne didn’t often venture far from the encampment, and Tarth’s soldiers usually trained with one another during periods of rest.

On one such day, Brienne walked to a nearby stream to enjoy the sun and sound of the water. The water reminded Brienne of Tarth. An intense longing for home made Brienne take pause. For as much as she lacked pleasant memories on Tarth, Brienne admired the landscape. When she would hide from her Septa, Brienne found comfort in nature. The sound of birds chirping, water flowing, and wind cutting across the fields gave Brienne a sense of peace.

As she neared the stream, she heard the clatter of wooden swords. Arya and the butcher’s boy were playing by the water’s edge. The children smiled widely as the sun shone brightly on them. They played in relative peace for some time, but then Brienne saw others approaching. Sansa and Prince Joffrey soon joined the pair dueling by the water. From the distance, Brienne could hear their exchanged words.

Joffrey mocked the butcher’s boy and challenged him to a duel. Brienne could hear the butcher’s boy begging for reprieve, but Joffrey cut Mika’s face with his sword. Seeing her friend was hurt, Arya hit Joffrey with her wooden blade. The prince swung his steel wildly to counter and Brienne began to run towards them. Sansa begged Arya and the prince to stop; her voice was frantic as the two circled one another.

The young Stark moved lithely and dodged every swung, but she tripped and fell flat on her back. The prince stood over her with his steel to her neck. Joffrey sneered at Arya, but her direwolf charged from the woods and viciously bit into Joffrey’s arm. 

At the assault, Arya took the prince’s blade and held Joffrey in place. The young prince cried and begged for mercy. Just as Brienne reached them, Arya threw the sword into the river and ran off with her direwolf at her heels. The scene seemed surreal and Brienne hardly knew what to do.

Arya had acted in self-defense and the butcher’s boy did nothing to offend the prince. It was Prince Joffrey who had started the fight and threatened the young pair, but now he lay injured on the ground. Crouching at his side, Sansa offered comfort. The prince lashed out in a combination of humiliation and rage as Brienne took a slow step closer.

Appraising the wound, it didn’t appear in need of stitches. Brienne tried to provide aid, but Joffrey sneered and shoved her away with his uninjured hand. In a matter of moments, Lannister bannermen and Ser Meryn rushed over. They shoved Brienne out of the way and took the prince to the royal family’s tent.

It took hours to find Arya. The frightened girl was hidden in the woods, but there was no trace of her direwolf. Brienne found herself dragged into the tent by Ser Meryn, whether as a witness or accused, Brienne was not certain.

The queen began to speak in defense of Joffrey. Lies poured from her mouth and Brienne bristled at the accusations. Glancing around the room, Brienne could feel the tension. The Kingsguard stood at Robert’s back looking on at the scene while accusation after accusation was cast at Arya and the butcher’s boy.

Only Arya was there to defend herself and Brienne wondered where Mika was. Attempting to defend herself, Arya interjected. She accused the prince of lying and the children began to bicker until Robert had enough of the squabbling.

“Enough! She tells me one thing, he tells me another! Seven hells! What am I to make of this? Where is your other daughter, Ned?”

Lord Stark thought the girl abed, but Cersei called her forward. A wave of relief rushed through Brienne as Sansa was guided towards the front of the tent.

_ Good. She’ll tell the truth as we both saw it. _

The king warned Sansa not to lie and she nodded in understanding. What followed confounded Brienne. Sansa claimed not to remember what happened, and the refusal to be honest set off a storm in Arya. As the Stark girls began to bicker with one another, Robert grew frustrated.

Trying to get Sansa’s attention, Brienne implored the girl to be honest. “Sansa. Tell the truth. I saw it too.”

Even speaking in hushed tones, Brienne’s words caught the king’s attention. His eyes narrowed and Brienne took a small step backwards, hoping to not be seen.

“You! Who the fuck are you!? You look the size of my guards, but you’re obviously not one.”

Brienne swallowed thickly, but she struggled to find the words. She was always clumsy in public settings and this was hardly the time to draw attention to herself.

Ser Meryn spoke at her back. “I found this one by the prince after Lady Sansa called for aid.”

“Well!” Robert barked at Brienne. “Who are you?”

Brienne’s voice was but a whisper; a stark contrast to her mannish size. “Brienne Tarth, your grace.”

“What!? Speak up, woman! You are a woman, I assume?”

Raising her voice just enough to be heard within several feet, Brienne spoke once more. “Brienne Tarth, your grace.”

“Tarth! By the gods, have we fallen into the bloody sea? I thought we were still along the kingsroad.”

Ned spoke commandingly before his king. “Your grace, I mentioned that we had House Tarth among us on the return. Lord Selwyn’s daughter was visiting Winterfell.”

The king’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What business does House Tarth have with yours?”

With a heavy sigh, Ned shook his head. “She has distant kin there.”

Robert waved a dismissive hand. With a heavy sigh, the king appraised Brienne. “Come on then. Out with it. What did you see?”

Glancing to the prince, Brienne composed herself. She realized she would need to tread cautiously so as not to insult the royal family and risk their ire.

“I was sitting downriver and saw Arya and the butcher’s boy sparring by the stream. They were playing with wooden swords, but then Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa happened upon then. It was meant to be good fun, I believe. Prince Joffrey challenged the butcher’s boy to swordplay, but the young man knew himself unworthy of the prince’s… skill, your grace.”

Joffrey’s chest swelled at the words. With a nod, he concurred with Brienne’s embellishment. “That’s right. She speaks true.”

Taking another deep breath, Brienne continued. “When the butcher boy proved incapable of matching the prince’s skill, he stood frozen. The prince cut the boy’s face, and Lady Arya interjected to offer aid. I don’t believe that either  _ intended _ to hurt one another. Of course, Prince Joffrey was the better swordsman and Lady Arya fell to the ground. He had the steel at her throat and spoke threateningly, but then the direwolf came and bit his arm. Once Prince Joffrey dropped the sword, the direwolf released its hold. Lady Arya threw the sword into the river before running off with the direwolf.”

Glancing at the prince, Brienne could see the anger at his face, but he held his tongue. Brienne assumed his silence likely on account of how she indulged his ego by painting a far better picture of his skill than was actually the case.

The king sighed and considered it all. With a huff of laughter, Robert shook his head. “Bloody Starks and Tarths. Too fucking honorable for their own good. I assume this is the way of it then?”

Robert looked to his son. With a huff, Joffrey looked away. The response was admission enough and Robert nodded at Ned. “Children fight. I’ll discipline my son and you discipline your daughter.”

Cersei raged and demanded greater justice for Joffrey, but Robert barked at her. “Shut up, woman! You heard the truth of it! He cut that boy and threatened the girl. I care little for his  _ skill _ .”

Robert raised a brow at Brienne after waving everyone off. The room began to clear out, but the king called out.

“Brienne Tarth! Stay.”

Brienne felt her heart leap into her throat at the command. Lord Stark glanced back at Brienne with worry in his eyes. He glanced back at Robert and spoke quickly.

“Your grace, she’s under my charge. I’ll ensure she and the Tarth soldiers don’t bother our escort. They’ve been keeping to the rear. Safer for them to move at our backs than alone.”

With a snort, the king stood from his chair. “Oh shut it, Ned. She’s of the Stormlands. My own damn vassal. You think I care if her little escort follows us?”

Ned turned to Jorey and ordered him to put the girls to bed. Stepping to Brienne’s back, Ned stood tall, though shorter than Brienne. A heavy sigh pushed back Robert’s lips and he considered Brienne.

“Come here, girl. I’ve not seen your father on the mainland in years! Gods damn Selwyn Tarth and his shit island. That man makes the Mountain look like a damn pebble.”

Brienne hardly knew what to say, her eyes scanned the royal family and Kingsugard. The Kingslayer had a strange expression on his face as she followed Robert’s movement towards Brienne.

A wistful look gripped Robert’s features as his mind began to piece various pieces of information together.

“The tourney at Storm's End in 279. I do believe that’s the last time I saw your father on the mainland. Your mother wasn’t there. I heard she was with child sometime around then. You, I assume. Gods, with your size, I imagine you’d have rendered any noblewoman incapable of movement. How old are you girl?”

Brienne felt her heart quicken as she met Robert’s eyes. It was at that tourney that her father had an affair with Queen Rhaella. The pair had been close since childhood on account of King Aegaon and Ser Duncan. Selwyn loved Rhaella, but he was from a small House and not considered a worthy match. Similarly, Rhaella had been in love years prior with another knight whose station did not meet King Jaehaerys’ expectations.

Brienne’s mother had in fact been unwell on Tarth when her father left for the tourney, though she was not pregnant. At the tourney, Selwyn erred by falling into bed with Rhaella. Too much wine while feasting saw the old friends make a dangerous decision. Brienne prayed to the Seven that Robert thought little of her answer to come.

“Eight-and-ten, your Grace.”

With a nod, Robert narrowed his eyes at Brienne. “Targaryen sympathizer.”

Brienne stiffened at the words, but before she could refute it, Robert continued. “Always chatting up Rhaella. At least your father hated Aerys. In my war with the crown, he sat on his little island and twiddled his thumbs. Why my bloody vassals love him so much, I’ll never understand.”

Trying to still her racing heart, Brienne swallowed thickly. At the king’s back, the movement of the Kingslayer caught her eye. He spoke sharply at Robert’s back.

“What are you on about? Not all the Stormlands vassals declared for you. Some even fought  _ for _ the crown.”

At the Kingslayer’s words, Brienne’s eyes darted to him. A strange conflict brewed deep within. He was a knight without honor who sullied the White Cloak. A man who cuckolded his king. At the same time, his words aimed to distract Robert and for that, Brienne was appreciative.

With a snort, Robert shook his head. He smirked at Brienne. “I’ve got a man who stabbed his king in the back now guarding my own! Now he means to squabble with me about which of  _ my  _ shit vassals stood at my side when I smashed Rhaegar with my hammer.”

The Kingslayer flinched at the words, but held his tongue. Turning his attention back to Brienne, the king huffed a laugh. “Renly visited your little island some years ago. That ball your father held. Ha! My brother certainly did not embellish your appearance. I suppose your father can’t marry you off, can he?”

Brienne felt her chin quiver at the information. It was at the ball that Brienne fell in love with Renly. He was the only person to treat her with decency while the other boys mocked her. It hurt to discover that Renly merely withheld his japes from her face, only to tell them behind her back. In that moment, Brienne felt her heart shatter. She stammered a reply and looked to the floor to hide her shame.

“No. He can’t, your grace.”

Brienne gripped the edge of her tunic tightly. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm against the fabric. The king hummed and nodded. “I suppose it’s his penance for not answering my call. Tell Selwyn that I’ll see what I can do. Surely there’s a man in need of land somewhere in these kingdoms. Enough now, girl. Out with you.”

Bowing at the king, Brienne heard the queen snicker at her lack of curtsey. Brienne moved quickly at Ned’s back to exit the tent. When she stepped outside, Brienne felt she could breathe again. Panic soon gave way to heartbreak. Brienne replayed the words spoken of Renly. The truth of the younger Baratheon’s opinion of her.

_ Septa Roelle had the right of it. My truth is in the mirror, not the words of men. _


	6. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime speaks with Cersei and Brienne following the incident between Joffrey and Arya.

It felt as though he had been holding his breath from the moment Robert questioned Brienne. Jaime didn’t understand why, but he continued to fret over the young woman. Hearing Robert speak of the tourney at Storm’s End and Lord Selwyn’s association with Queen Rhaella, it confirmed what Jaime overheard at Winterfell.

_ Seven hells. It’s true. What a fool her father was for sending her away. He should have kept her on that island. _

Then Robert had spoken of Renly and Brienne’s chin quivered. In the limited time Jaime knew her, it was hardly the first time someone insulted Brienne’s appearance, but it was the first time she seemed hurt by it.

_ Gods. She fancies Renly. She’s mannish, but not man enough for Renly’s taste.  _

When Robert left the tent on some unspoken mission, Ser Boros and Ser Meryn followed. At his back, Cersei walked by slowly.

“The clearing. Now.”

It was the first time that Cersei had spoken to Jaime since Bran discovered them in the tower. Hate lingered in Cersei’s eyes when she glanced at Jaime and brushed by him. There was an unspoken resentment over his refusal to kill the Stark boy.

It had confounded Jaime that Cersei expected him to act while a witness stood at the base of the tower. Had Jaime killed Bran with a witness to both the act  _ and _ the guilty parties, it would have meant death for Jaime and Cersei.

Aside from Jaime’s insistence that he took care of the matter, Cersei refused to hear him out. Jaime tried to convince Cersei that he found a way to silence Bran, but he dared not mention Brienne’s presence. 

Jaime had insisted that there were too many witnesses, but Cersei had not heard nor seen any. She was not so foolish to peer out the window and see for herself. It mattered little to Cersei in the end. Bran was her target and Jaime failed her. Since Jaime’s refusal to shove the boy, Cersei did not seek Jaime out or offer lustful gazes that left his cock twitching. All Jaime felt was her ire.

Giving Cersei a moment to move towards the clearing just off to the side of the royal tent, Jaime followed slowly and glanced back at Joffrey who stood sulking in the tent. Under the cover of night, Jaime wondered if Cersei finally felt the familiar draw between them. They had never been able to go too long without a quick fuck in a dark corner.

Strangely, Jaime had little longing for that now. Having been discovered by Bran was a much-needed reminder of how dangerous their game was. Fucking in a field along the kingsroad would hardly make sense after three people recently learned of their affair. Three people who Jaime did not trust to keep the secret.

Stepping towards the edge of the clearing, Jaime observed Cersei leaning impatiently against a tree. Her eyes held the same rage that had been there days earlier.

_ Well at least we’re on the same page about not seeking a quick release. _

Stepping towards him, Cersei sneered. “Interesting the moments you chose to speak and those you chose to remain silent. Well fortunately for you brother, I’m more man than you are. I’ve taken care of our issue to the north.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed as he considered Cersei. “What?”

Glancing around to ensure no one was close, Cersei spoke at a barely audible level. “That boy has likely taken his last breath by now, or if not, he will soon. If you won’t protect what’s yours, I’ll find another who will.”

Without another word, Cersei left the clearing. The situation was frustrating, and it felt to Jaime as though his world was spiraling out of control. Everything action Jaime took since Cersei came to him many years ago at Eel Alley had been for Cersei. If he didn’t have her in his life, what was he doing it all for?

Jaime began to walk through the woods in irritation. He grumbled and cursed under his breath. In the moment, Jaime wanted for nothing more than to run his sword through someone. His hand twitched at his side and beckoned him to unsheathe his blade. 

The moonlight filtered through the trees and Jaime heard someone in the distance. Moving slowly, the pale skin and blonde hair of the beast from Tarth caught his eye. Anger flared at the sight of her. Had she not been chasing after Bran that day, Jaime could have pushed the boy and been done with it.

It wasn’t that he wanted to harm a child, but the matter with Cersei would have been quelled and his family safer. Instead of earning Cersei’s ire, Jaime would have earned her love. Cersei’s love was always something to be earned; never given freely. Were it not for Bran and Brienne, the twins’ lifelong dance around each other could have continued with none the wiser.

Flexing his fingers, Jaime reached for the hilt of his sword. With every step he took, his mind and heart were at war. Part of Jaime wished to exact his revenge on the beast. Cersei had made arrangements to remove Bran and he could very easily slit the beast’s throat and regain Cersei’s affection. Then all that would remain was Catelyn.

The closer he moved towards the beast, the more Jaime’s resolve faltered. As had occurred in the tent when Brienne stood before Robert, a protective instinct replaced any vexation at his own predicament. Jaime imagined it had to do with his failure to protect Rhaella that he felt some obligation to the beastly woman from Tarth.

As he neared the clearing, Brienne whirled around at the sound of a twig breaking under Jaime’s foot. Their eyes met and Jaime noted her tearstained face.

At the realization it was him, Brienne hesitated. She did not initially lower her weapon, but instead straightened; her stance weakening. A cool wind blew through the clearing and her eyes darted towards the encampment in the distance.

“You’re a long way from Tarth’s guards.”

Jaime’s voice was a challenge as he stepped into the clearing. The light from the moon was brighter than the campfires in the distance. Holding her sword shakily, a new resolve shone in her eyes.

“Lucky for you. They’d hardly notice if I was present or missing.”

Jaime snorted and unsheathed his blade. “ _ Missing _ . If you ceased to draw breath, it would certainly eliminate one of my many problems.”

Something flashed in Brienne’s eyes that Jaime could not read, but she held her ground. There was a stubborn bravery to the young woman which would surely see her killed. Any sensible woman would have run for her father’s guards. She should have screamed for protection from the evil Kingslayer.

_ Perhaps if she was smarter. Perhaps if she cared. She already seemed willing to give her own life once for the truth. _

Jaime felt frustrated at his dueling emotions. There was both a desire and an unwillingness to kill her. Jaime felt vexed at the foolish woman’s inability to safeguard herself in such dire circumstances. He felt rage at Cersei’s words and attitude towards him.

A sea of emotions compelled Jaime’s sword hand to move. His blade swung hard towards the beast and they began their dance. The lessons he offered at Winterfell reflected in her movements. Her body responded to Jaime’s as though a choreographed dance rather than a reactive movement to a threat. Their blades cut through the dark of night, catching glimmers of the moonlight on their steel.

The sound of their blades meeting repeatedly echoed off the trees around them. With every spin of his body and cut of his blade, the beast was there. Jaime’s heart hammered in his ears. Their labored breathing fought for dominance over the sound of their blades. Their feet stepped over and around one another as their bodies twisted and bent.

Cersei had always called Jaime her other half. One soul in two bodies. Fighting with Brienne felt more two halves reunited than any tryst with Cersei. There was a balance to them that felt known to Jaime despite limited acquaintance. 

Spinning left, Jaime swung his sword hard in frustration. He stopped just short of Brienne’s neck; his hand proving incapable of hurting her. It was then that he saw her blade at his neck. Both stood with their arms outstretched and a killing blow withheld.

Their chests heaved as they stared at one another. It was Brienne who broke the silence. Her breathing was labored and her voice low. There was a raw sadness and resignation in her words that felt like the delivery of the blow her hand withheld.

“They killed the butcher’s boy. What’s another life to appease your kin? Go on then. I’ll not scream.”

Dropping her sword, Brienne stood with her chin raised defiantly. The breeze cutting through the small space pushed the loose strands of hair back from Brienne’s face. Her eyes twinkled like the stars above their heads. With a huff of irritation, Jaime dropped his blade and straightened. He took a step closer to her and spoke through gritted teeth.

“A bastard princess for a bastard prince. Seems a fair exchange were I someone who gave a shit about justice. I’m the Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor. You’d do well to remember that when you bare your neck to me.”

Brienne appraised him suspiciously as if waiting for the blade to drag across her throat. “It would be safer for you if I wasn’t alive.”

“And it would be safer for you if I wasn’t alive. I swore to hold my tongue if you held yours.”

Jaime’s voice was challenging and harsher than he intended it, but Brienne did not flinch. Sheathing his sword, Jaime tilted up his chin and considered her. He didn’t know why he said it, but the words flew from his mouth before he could consider them.

“You’ve too much teats and not enough cock for Renly’s taste. If you’re going to cry over a miserable shit, you should find someone worthier.”

“I was not crying over Lord Renly.”

Jaime huffed a laugh. “You’re in love with him.”

It wasn’t a question, but the beast began to protest. With a slight shake of his head, Jaime cut her off. “Say what you like, but it matters not. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

The words startled her. Her innocent eyes shone brightly as the words appeared to tumble around in her mind. Shaking her head, Brienne’s features set firm. With a stubborn resolve, she looked into Jaime’s eyes. “He is not a miserable shit and I know he fancies men. Still, he’s a good man.”

_ Gods. So naïve. So idealistic. I was that once… before Aerys. The ignorance of youth. Black or white. True or false. Good or bad. She has no idea the harsh reality of this world, but her decisions will see her learn it the hard way. _

Jaime snorted and considered his own love. He chased the scraps that Cersei offered and gave all of himself in return. Realization was dawning and Jaime felt as though he was a man drowning. Cersei loved so long as Jaime obeyed. He pondered if true love existed as the stories and minstrels would have everyone believe.

He thought back on Eel Alley and Cersei gifting her body until Jaime agreed to her demands. He thought back on their childhood in which it was more of the same. A kiss for a task completed. A forbidden touch for an order taken. He thought back on the tower. It was his first refusal to comply, and now Cersei looked at him as though he was mud on her boot.

The romantic in Jaime cried out that the rage would pass. She was upset and questioning his resolve to protect her. It would take time, but she would come back to him.

The cynic in Jaime sneered that it wasn’t real. The image he built of Cersei over the years was the lie. Her conditional love was the truth. 

Looking to Brienne, Jaime sneered. “A good man? You think Renly’s a good man? On what grounds?”

“He was kind to me.”

A rumbling laughter shook Jaime’s body. The reaction elicited a deep scowl from the great beast before him. “Shut your mouth.”

Her indignant rage only served to fuel Jaime’s mirth. “He was kind to you, so that makes him a good man? I’ve been kind to all manner of people, but I’ve also shoved my sword through a king’s back. Does that make me a good man?”

“That’s not the same.”

Jaime raised an amused brow in reply. “Oh? How so?”

“You were kind to…  _ normal _ people. That isn’t a great feat and doesn’t make you a good man. Renly was kind to me when he had no reason to be. Undesirable creatures don’t have kindness shown to them by anyone.”

Any mirth previously in his tone and coursing through his body faded to darkness. The painful image of his brother waddling down the corridors of Casterly Rock in search of kindness never dulled with time. Even now as a man grown, Tyrion hid behind japes and wit to mask a hurt too raw and deep to fully recover from. Jaime afforded Tyrion kindness when no one else would, but could he have done more? Could Renly have done more than be kind to Brienne’s face, only to mock her behind her back?

“So, he is a better man in your eyes because he chose to mock you behind your back rather than to your face? If that is the qualification for ‘good’, then you should spend more time at court in King’s Landing. I can assure you, there is an abundance of  _ kindness _ to one’s face. You’ll make many  _ good _ friends.”

Brienne’s face fell at the words. “I did not… foolish misunderstandings of a young girl. Now I know better. I’ll not make the mistake again.”

She began to move from the clearing, but Jaime grabbed her arm. She stiffened under his touch and tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but Jaime held firm. 

“I’ve never once mocked my brother behind his back. Do not set expectations for all men based on the shortcomings of one.”

Brienne’s eyes grew distant as she glanced away from him. She spoke more to herself than to him. “Honesty is not a shortcoming. Your brother had the right of it when he offered advice to Jon Snow. ‘Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.’”

Without another word, Brienne moved away from the clearing. Jaime watched her retreat as he exhaled loudly. A sad smile stretched across his lips at the very lesson he imparted upon Tyrion four-and-ten years ago.

After killing Aerys, Jaime became bitter and self-loathing. His greatest deed as a knight was the one act he would forever be reviled for. For some time, Jaime felt half dead. The trauma of having served in Aerys’ Kingsguard and the decision he had to make weighed heavy on him.

Jaime left the Rock as a boy with dreams of knighthood, but he became what he feared most. Looking up at the night sky, Jaime breathed deeply and moved towards the encampment. He would need to take guard duty that night from Ser Meryn. If he didn’t take rest now, he would have none by daybreak.

Jaime set out his bedroll and grumbled at the feel of the cold ground below him. The tent was as cold and lonely as his life was fast becoming. As he drifted to sleep, Jaime again questioned what he thought his love with Cersei to be. His mind considered their past actions and conversations. Soon, Jaime found sleep.

_ “Jaime. Are you in there?” _

_ Tyrion’s voice called out from the other side of Jaime’s door. It was the day following Cersei’s wedding to Robert and Jaime felt as though the world had shifted from under his feet. He was the Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor. Cersei was his one constant in it all. Despite what the world thought, he had her love and that was all that mattered. _

_ Until he didn’t have her. _

_ “Jaime. Please.” _

_ With a huff of irritation, Jaime walked to the door and unbarred it. Tyrion pushed inside and gazed up at him. One of his eyes was swollen and his lips were drawn into a frown. _

_ “What happened to your face?” _

_ Tyrion looked to the floor and shrugged. He was but a boy still at one-and-ten; his older sister married to a king, and his brother a Kingslayer. _

_ “A minor disagreement with one of our delightful cousins.” Tyrion moved into the room and sat down. _

_ Rage simmered in Jaime’s core as he looked to Tyrion. Even in his own misery, he could not abide by anyone harming Tyrion. “Who?” _

_ Tyrion shrugged. “It matters not, though it was my face’s fault. It gave offense by existing.” _

_ Looking around the room, Tyrion sighed. “King Robert pardoned you, and father thought you might come home.” _

_ Visions of Cersei flashed in his mind. His only remaining happiness. “Kingsguard serve for life. I’ll not break another oath.” _

_ Tyrion looked to him with mismatched eyes that screamed for aid. “Can you not come home and be a great knight instead?” _

_ Jaime couldn’t as doing so meant leaving Cersei. Sitting beside Tyrion, Jaime sighed and shook his head. “Father has you to play at heir. He has Cersei to give him power. I’ll serve the realm… for whatever good an oathbreaker can do.” _

_ Tyrion was too young to understand it all. He never asked about Aerys, but Tyrion understood that Jaime had the chance to leave, yet he refused. “Father will never let me be heir. Demon monkey. That’s what they call me lately. I think I preferred Imp.” _

_ Jaime closed his eyes and tried to temper his rage. He wanted to run his sword through everyone who hurt Tyrion. Putting an arm around his brother, Jaime pulled Tyrion close. _

_ “They call me an oathbreaker and man without honor. I hate it, but it’s what I am now. Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.” _

_ It was the best he could offer Tyrion. He wouldn’t be there to stop the cruel words or beat the miserable shits into the dirt for his little brother, but he could arm Tyrion emotionally. A huff of laughter pushed past Tyrion’s lips as he repeated Jaime’s words. _

_ Then Tyrion repeated the words a second time, but his voice was different. It was feminine and timid. Jaime’s arm that had been draped over Tyrion’s shoulders felt higher as though he was holding someone who sat shoulder to shoulder with him. Turning his head left, Jaime saw Brienne. _

_ Her eyes shone brightly, and a small smile was at her lips. “Honestly is not a shortcoming.” _

_ Jaime closed the distance between them and kissed her; his right hand reaching for Brienne’s face. It was tender and pure and altogether nothing like the frantic kisses exchanged with Cersei. Kissing Brienne felt right and warm. _

Jaime bolted upright. He was panting and confused as he looked around the tent. Everything came back to him slowly as he took in his surroundings. The dream had begun as a memory, but it ended  _ quite _ differently.

_ What is wrong with me? I’m losing my mind. _


	7. Bran II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran is restless and finds his path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to double post today. Just need to cram in some more editing on the next chapter (Brienne POV). Getting this one up now.

The moon was high as Bran crept through the corridors. Like most nights, he was restive and unable to find sleep. Something seemed to be calling to him; a voice for which there was no face nor direction. Restlessness stirred in Bran that could not be stilled. He wanted to climb the highest towers and look to the horizon.

Voices drifted through the ancient hallways. Observing approaching shadows, Bran jumped into an unused room and waited for the figures to pass. Two maids scurried by with piles of linens clutched in their arms.

Stepping back into the hallway, Bran continued his path forward. He moved towards the back stairwell and descended the steps towards the yards. Every night since the king’s escort left, Bran found himself walking the same path.

He would exit the Keep and pass through the yards. Something kept drawing Bran towards the broken tower as though a place of destiny, but that fate felt interrupted. Bran would take pause and stare up towards the window of his unexpected discovery. 

_ Was I meant to be there to see that act, or was I drawn there to see something else, but the Lannister twins foiled fate.  _

Never receiving an answer, Bran would then run across Winterfell’s grounds as his direwolf nipped playfully at his heels. Bran would move through the godswood towards the ancient tree that beckoned him throughout the day.

The red leaves of the weirwood mesmerized Bran. There was an eerie stillness to the tree that seemed to temporarily silence the voices within. Bran often climbed the tree and sat under the stars. When his time among the whistling winds and shaking leaves was through, Bran would return to the Keep and climb the stonework towards his room.

There was little reason to avoid the same path from which he came, but Bran enjoyed the climb. It sent his heart racing; an exhilarating feeling unrivaled by swordplay or riding horses. Unlike other sections of the Keep, the climb to his room was brief. The family wing was a mere story from the ground, but still, Bran enjoyed the climb.

That night proved no different. Bran climbed the ancient weirwood and thought of Jon at the Wall. He thought of his sisters and father moving south. He thought of Brienne returning to her island. 

Brienne. Bran missed her terribly. There was a warmth to Brienne that emanated outwardly, and everyone around her was benefactor to it. Brienne was kind, trustworthy, loyal, and selfless. In the short period of time that Bran knew her, he understood how rare a person Brienne was. Bran wanted to be a great and honorable knight like her great-grandfather, Ser Duncan the Tall. The reality that Brienne could never be that despite her skill with a blade and righteous character felt unfair.

_ I’ll be a knight for both of us. I’ll return respect to the title as she would.  _

When the time came to return to his room, Bran moved swiftly up the stonework. His hands and feet reached out for the stones that jutted out unevenly and provided the necessary leverage.

Nearing the window of his room, Bran’s hand grabbed the sill. His direwolf yelped from the ground and jumped back and forth. Pulling his body upright, Bran came face to face with a hooded figure. His eyes went wide, and his body startled. The figure slashed at Bran’s neck with a dagger, but Bran’s quick hand came up defensively as his body fell backwards.

A sharp pain tore through Bran’s body as blood poured from his hand. Bran’s fall seemed interminable as his limbs stretched out in despair. His mind screamed, but no sound left his mouth. 

_ But I never fall. I’ll wake up before I hit the ground. _

The voice that had whispered in his ear for weeks cut out through the darkness.  _ ‘And if you don’t?’ _

Bran squeezed his eyes shut and implored himself to wake up. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, but the voice only commanded him to fly.

On and on it went. The voice took on the physical form of a crow. The crow claimed to be showing him the way; teaching Bran how to fly.

The fall seemed infinite, but the climb was quick. Bran was seemingly everyone at once as he soared higher and higher still. His body was not his own. Bran was hovering over the kingdoms. It was an unnerving sensation to see everything below.

Bran could see the king’s escort moving south. He saw his sisters squabbling with Joffrey. He saw Brienne crying silently under the stars. He saw his father trying to protect everyone. 

Bran closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air. Then the wind stopped rushing against his face. The crow showed Bran things beyond the kingdoms. He saw dragons to the east and dead things to the north. The images frightened Bran and he closed his eyes to push away the visions.

When Bran opened his eyes next, he was looking down at his own broken body from inside his bedroom. His mother and Maester Luwin spoke in hushed tones at the foot of the bed.

_ Gods. Am I dead? _

Bran looked down at himself. He appeared to be asleep more than dead. His hand was bandaged and his breathing even. There was something under the furs at his legs. Whether it was bandages adding extra bulk or something to hold his legs at length, Bran could not tell. Tears coated his mother’s face as Maester Luwin tried to offer comfort.

“We have to wait and see, my lady.”

With a small gasp, Bran moved towards the bed and appraised his body. He closed his eyes to shake the image before him. A voice whispered into Bran’s ear and showed him the way.

“You have to choose now; fly or die.”

Bran’s eyes opened. He was staring up at the ceiling in his room. Intense pain gripped his body and voices drew Bran’s attention to the right side of the bed. Robb was sitting with his head bowed towards the floor. He was speaking at something near his feet.

“Out with you. Go play with Grey Wind.”

Without warning, Bran’s direwolf leapt onto the bed. The action sent pain coursing through Bran’s body and he cried out. At the response, Robb’s eyes went wide. He pushed the direwolf away and hovered over Bran. His voice sounded strained and tears filled his eyes.

“Bran! Thank the gods.”

Robb ran towards the door and called for Maester Luwin. Chaos seemed to erupt outside the hallway and it wasn’t long before Maester Luwin came charging into the room. The maester’s questions and exam seemed to go on forever. Bran didn’t remember much other than falling. He remembered the voice and the crow that took its form.

When Maester Luwin pulled back the blankets and asked Bran if he could feel various sensations at his legs, Bran sobbed. His legs appeared a mangled mess. The ability to answer Maester Luwin’s questions faded as Bran struggled to breathe. It felt as though the room was closing in around him.

“Will I walk?”

With a sigh and warm hand to Bran’s shoulder, Maester Luwin spoke solemnly. “Only time will tell. It's in the gods hands now, but I’ll do all that I can to help restore mobility. There seems to be sensation in your legs. It’s possible you’ll walk, though likely you’ll always limp.”

_ But I want to be a knight. _

The days passed slowly after that. Old Nan sat at Bran’s side as the bitterness crept into his heart. He hated his newfound immobility. He hated the unknown. He hated the feeling of drowning in despair.

Robb had informed Bran that their mother moved south just two days before Bran awoke. It took many days, but they found the assassin. Bran’s direwolf had intercepted the man’s retreat from the Keep that night. Summer’s jaw was found coated in blood, and a maid said she saw a man fleeing after being attacked by the direwolf.

When the man was apprehended, questioned, and tortured, he was identified as a Lannister bannerman. The admission did not afford him the chance at life when Ser Rodrick’s blade took his head.

Bran’s mother had moved south with Ser Rodrick the following day. She feared the information too dangerous to be carried by raven. In addition to Bran’s attempted murder, Catelyn worried for Brienne, though Robb did not understand why.

Bran knew. Unlike before, Bran learned why secrets were dangerous. Loose tongues were a challenge to the Stranger, and Bran nearly fell into death’s arms.

_ I’ll never speak of it again. Brienne’s secret dies with me, mother, and, gods willing, the Kingslayer. _

Bran wondered if House Lannister tried or succeeded in killing Brienne. 

_ Gods, please keep Brienne safe. Don’t snuff out her light.  _

The inability to recall his fall gnawed at Bran.

_ Why can’t I see the man’s face? Why can’t I remember my hand being sliced? Why can’t I remember hitting the ground? _

Sitting upright in his bed, Bran stared at his legs. Taking a deep breath and concentrating as hard as he could, Bran told his toes to move. He stared at his big toe and smiled as it complied. 

_ I know that I have a purpose. I wanted to be a knight, but the gods must have some other purpose for me. I’ll find it. First, I’ll walk. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the fall from the broken tower, this fall wasn't as high. Bran will walk, but he will definitely have a limp/won't be able to be a knight. I'm doing this for 2 reasons to be later revealed (AndPlusAlso, I wanted to try to give poor Bran a different fate).


	8. Brienne III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne continues to train with Jaime on the journey south. They come to learn more of each other in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting with the prior chapter (Bran POV).

Brienne’s chest heaved with exertion as she circled around Jaime once more. Every night for the past fortnight, they had met in a clearing just north of the encampment to spar. While she was nowhere near the skill of the Kingslayer, Brienne was vastly improved and learning much.

The peculiar bond developing between them made Brienne take pause. It was a relationship built on growing respect for each other’s skill more than regard for one another as individuals. He was after all the Kingslayer. A man who broke his oaths, committed incest, and placed bastards in line for the throne.

At the same time, he safeguarded Brienne’s secret. A man in his position with such power had no reason to offer Brienne any protection. Even more confounding, he offered genuine encouragement for Brienne’s training.

As they took a break from sparring, Brienne sat panting on a fallen tree limb. The Kingslayer sat at an arm’s length and took a long sip of water from his waterskin. Wordlessly, he passed the waterskin to Brienne. The liquid was cool and refreshing on her tongue. Brienne tilted her head back and appraised the night sky.

Every night, Brienne looked to the stars. She could tell much from looking at the sky. In this case, Brienne was checking the star which guided her path home.

_ A few more days to King’s Landing and then a two-day boat ride to Tarth.  _

“I can assure you that they’re all still there. No need to check every bloody night.” Jaime huffed at her side as he reached back for his waterskin.

Brienne rolled her eyes and handed it back. Without looking at Jaime, Brienne replied quietly. “Stars guide the way home. They’re one of the few constants in this world.”

A light hum pushed past Jaime’s lips before he took another sip of water. “I sailed by Tarth once on the way to Estermont. I preferred to let the captain guide the way than the stormy skies of your wretched kingdom.”

Brienne huffed in annoyance, but she held her tongue. Ignoring Jaime’s snide remarks was something she learned quickly enough on the journey south. There was something hollow about his cutting commentary. Despite his dark secrets and kingslaying, he was kind to Brienne. It made Brienne wonder if Jaime truly meant to be cruel, or if it was meant to mask a repressed kindness not aligned to the persona he preferred to present. 

The association with the reviled knight confused Brienne. She had assumed that people, like events, were black and white. People were good or bad. Kind or cruel. Honest or Dishonest. The Kingslayer proved a walking contradiction. He used cruel words but offered kind advice. He performed bad acts but had done good to honor the agreement with Brienne. He was brutally honest with Brienne, but dishonest towards his king.

With their nightly sparring, both came to know one another better. Jaime asked after her failed betrothals. He grumbled at her tale of Ronnet, but smirked beside her when she told of the wounds inflicted on Ser Humfrey.

She learned more of his family. Jaime adored his brother, loved his Aunt Genna, and forever displeased his father. He claimed to have more cousins than he cared to count, and that the rest of his aunts and uncles were utter shit. Cersei was the only one he avoided speaking about.

They both shared a history of losing a parent; though Brienne came to find out later in life that Lady Tarth was not her mother’s trueborn. They had discussed as much while training two nights ago.

_ Two nights prior _

“Your father shouldn’t have told you.”

The statement had caught Brienne by surprise as they took a water break. Brienne furrowed her brows and considered the words. The Kingslayer rolled his eyes as though the statement was obvious.

Brienne then understood his meaning. “Oh. About…  _ that _ .”

They only mentioned her lineage in riddles. The Kinglsayer felt it too dangerous to utter Rhaella’s name aloud or discuss any information that sounded suspicious should prying ears come too close. With an affirming nod, Jaime’s eyes flitted to hers. Brienne sighed and nodded.

“He didn’t.” The curt reply surprised Jaime. His brows furrowed in question. There was no need to voice his confusion. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around.

“Old Nan. You likely saw her around Winterfell trailing after Hodor or the Stark children.”

Jaime nodded in affirmation as Brienne took pause to ensure he followed her meaning.

“She had a few children, but only her eldest son was by Ser Duncan. The youngest of her children were two daughters. One of the daughters, Arianne, she… she wed my father. My grandparents had kept in communication with Old Nan at Ser Duncan’s behest. They struggled to find my father a match. Not… not for the same reasons as me. He just… wanted love. He missed  _ her _ .”  _ Rhaella _ .

Brienne saw an understanding flash in Jaime’s eyes. “Well that’s a bit… complicated.”

With a short nod, Brienne glanced to the forest floor. “Yes. They weren’t allowed to see one another after  _ the fire _ .”

Brienne glanced to ensure that Jaime understood her reference to Summerhall which claimed the lives of, among others, King Aegon, Prince Duncan, and Ser Duncan. Jaime hummed in understanding and Brienne continued.

“My mot... Lady Tarth… cared for my father, but they were not a love match. From what he said, they tried to love each other, but they were content as friends.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne continued.

“Arianne knew about  _ her _ . They did their duty though, and Arianne birthed my brother, Galladon. Then my father went to the tourney… and Arianne wrote Old Nan about  _ things _ that occurred. They were afraid and needed advice. By then, my father’s parents had died. Anyway… many years later when I visited Winterfell with my father, Old Nan mentioned  _ her _ to me. How lucky I was to not have  _ those _ features. I didn’t understand. I asked my father as he sat with Lord and Lady Stark. They were quite upset and told Old Nan to keep quiet about it.”

The Kingslayer sighed and shook his head. “Surely others know. How else would you get there?”  _ Tarth _ . The meaning hung between them.

Brienne sighed and kept her voice low as the Kingslayer moved closer. “The midwife requested for my delivery was Old Nan’s other daughter who had moved south. They didn’t allow the Gran...  _ him _ … in the room for the delivery.”  _ Him. Pycelle. _

From the tale that her father shared, Rhaella played at madness. She claimed that Pycelle caused her other losses and she wanted only for a midwife that was hand-selected. They had been planning the deceit for some time. Rhaella knew that if the babe came out looking like a Tarth, Aerys would have the child killed, and likely Rhaella with the babe.

Maegor’s Holdfast was filled with secret passages and Rhaella knew them better than most. They had her delivery in one such room with a little know passageway into the tunnels below the Keep. It was the only way they could get Brienne out safely.

Conditions in the city were poor and healers ill-equipped under Aerys’ mad reign. Arianne’s sister had been in the city for moons delivering babe’s to the city’s poorest. Securing a deceased babe was the least of Rhaella’s concerns. According to Selwyn, it was the secreting Brienne out part that had Rhaella worried.

There was only one other woman to know the truth of it all. Lady Tarth’s wet nurse made her way to the city a fortnight earlier. When Brienne was born, they had to muffle her cries and immediately move her into the tunnels. There, the wet nurse took Brienne, and the midwife returned with the stillborn.

Pycelle seemed none the wiser when the midwife scurried out of the room in contrived sorrow. They had wrapped the false babe in the soiled linens, and Grand Maester did not seek to see nor inspect the babe aside from a quick glance. Rhaella’s past history of miscarriage and stillbirth aided the lie. As for Tarth, Arianne had done her part as Selwyn’s friend.

She stuffed her skirts with false growth for moons. Like Rhaella, Arianne demanded a midwife. Unlike Rhaella, there was no babe to birth when the time came. Under cover of night, the wet nurse brought in Brienne. Selwyn had the sheets soiled with pig’s blood and no one on Tarth thought twice. By the gods blessing and curse, Brienne had only Tarth features, though she was less pleasing to look upon than her father’s line.

Strangely, the ordeal brought Brienne’s parents closer together. The twin girls were born out of love, but their love had blossomed too late. Arianne died on the birthing bed and the babes not long after.

Now as Brienne sat in the clearing at present with Jaime, a long stretch of silence passed between them. Jaime stood from his seated position and glanced around.

“I’ve guard duty in a few hours. You should get back to your father’s men. It isn’t safe out here by yourself.”

Jaime looked down at her expectantly. With a slight hesitation, Brienne’s eyes darted just east from the clearing they were in.

“I will soon enough.”

The answer did little to appease Jaime. He stood over her and glared. “The stars will look the same from your encampment as they do here.”

Brienne could feel her cheeks pink slightly under his scrutinizing gaze. “I mean to bathe. While the stars look the same here as at the encampment, the atmosphere would be quite sullied if I bared myself before the men.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Soldiers have seen all manner of depravities. Surely even your flat teats won’t make them quite so ill.”

Japes at her expense were not uncommon. At eight-and-ten, Brienne had already heard enough to last a lifetime. Standing in indignant rage, Brienne stomped off towards the small hot spring she had come upon earlier that day. It wasn’t a decent walk from the clearing, but Brienne preferred the solitude. So lost in her thoughts was Brienne that she hardly noticed the footsteps not far behind her. 

Arriving at the hot spring, Brienne smiled to herself. The steam lifted off the water’s surface and beckoned to her aching limbs.

Brienne set down her sword and began to remove her outermost layers. The sound of footsteps to her right startled her. Entering her peripheral vision, Brienne saw Jaime dip a hand into the water.

“Quite selfish of you to not mention this find.”

Crossing her arms as though already naked, Brienne clenched her jaw in frustration. “I said that I’m to bathe, ser.”

“Yes, because the only thing safer than a noblewoman alone in the woods, is a naked, noblewoman alone in the woods. Don’t worry… not interested. I’ll stand guard for you.”

The indifference with which he spoke stood in stark contrast to the chivalry he offered. Were she a pretty woman, Brienne might understand the reasons for his protection.

“I can assure you that at the sight of me, no one would dare come near. I’ll be quite safe.”

Jaime hummed as he stood from his crouched position by the water’s edge. “I suppose there are some things we can agree on. Even still, mayhap I prefer a bath myself. Go on and hurry up. I’ve a guard shift to get to in a few hours.”

Turning his back as if guarding outside the king’s tent, Jaime began to whistle as Brienne quickly disrobed and moved into the water. The warmth afforded by the hot spring produced a satisfied moan in her throat. It had been a long journey south with less than comfortable accommodations. The Tarth contingent did not travel quite so extravagantly as the royal family.

Closing her eyes, Brienne submerged herself and enjoyed the feel of the water. The hot spring was roughly of her height in depth; just shallow enough however that Brienne could toe along the bottom when standing at the center. 

Brienne remained underwater until she felt the familiar burning in her lungs. The loss of her brother to the sea always ensured a hasty retreat when Brienne felt her body plea for air.

As she surfaced and rubbed the water from her face, Brienne looked up to see a very naked Kingsguard moving into the water.

“What are you doing!?”

Jaime smirked; his self-assuredness leaving a bitter taste in Brienne’s mouth. “I’m having a bath. What does it look like?”

“You’re naked, ser, and I’m already in here.” Brienne moved quickly to the opposite bank which was roughly twelve feet across. Her complaint did little to dissuade Jaime as he sank into the water and sighed contentedly.

“Have you never seen a man before? Surely you don’t look much different below the water.”

In truth, Brienne had not seen a man naked before. On hot days, she had seen men shirtless in the training yards, but never  _ this _ naked. Without having any point of comparison, Brienne was convinced that Jaime was the Warrior made flesh. Any other man would pale in comparison; even Renly.

The Kinslayer was well-sculpted; his muscles rippling as he stepped into the hot springs. Greeting his perfect frame, the steam kissed his skin and made him look otherworldly. A reflection of his golden locks, Jaime’s skin was a perfect golden hue. 

At the edge of the bank, Brienne drew her knees to her chest as she found a shallow edge to sit on. Her shoulders jutted out above the water and she scowled at the Kingslayer who was enjoying her discomfort.

_ Never before has someone of such unrivaled beauty sat naked before someone of such unmatched ugliness. _

“It’s a surprise that Renly doesn’t fancy you. You’re far more man than some of the tulips he has taken to bed.”

Despite the truth of Renly’s opinion of her, Brienne could not tolerate such cruelties spoken of him. He may have spoken ill of her to Robert, but he still saved her at the ball on Tarth. Surging from the water in a rage, Brienne stood before Jaime naked as her nameday. Beads of water dripped down her long, lean form as her chest heaved in anger.

It was the first time that Brienne truly saw the Kingslayer startled. His mouth hung open slightly as his eyes roamed her body before darting away. Clearing his throat, the Kingslayer spoke softly.

“Apologies. That was unworthy.”

The waves formed by Brienne’s outburst moved towards Jaime as she took her seat once more. When her rage passed, awareness for what she had done colored Brienne’s cheeks. She began to chastise herself for presenting her undesirable body so flagrantly, but lingering resentment gripped her features. A deep scowl spread across her face as she considered her physical failings alongside the blunt nature with which the Kingslayer noted them.

“There’s the look. I’ll admit, I’m more accustomed to seeing it while clothed than naked, but it’s all the same.”

Brienne looked up at his words. There was a bitterness to Jaime’s tone that surprised her. A slight curiosity began to rise within and replace her vexation with the man before her. In the brief weeks they sparred together, he did not strike her the type to plunge his sword into the back of a king for no reason. Given his illicit affair with his own sister, it struck Brienne odd that he guarded King Robert as well as he did.

_ Why not gut the person standing between him and his love? He killed Aerys for less. _

“Why did you do it?”

At her question, Jaime’s head snapped to her. Confusion lined his features as he tilted his head in consideration. “Why did I do what? Insult you? Insult your precious Renly?”

“Why did you kill Aerys?”

Brienne knew the kind of man Aerys was. Her lord father told tales of Aerys’ cruelty and madness. When word of Aerys’ death arrived at Tarth, Selwyn admitted that a small part of him celebrated it despite condemning the manner in which the Mad King met the Stranger.

A heavy silence fell over them as Jaime sat staring at her in a daze. Shock replaced confusion in his eyes, but then bitterness crept in once more.

“Have you not heard? I’m an oathbreaker and man without honor. I have little need for reason. I do what I fancy.”

Something about his tone and the resentment in his eyes suggested that was hardly the reason. With a slight shrug, Brienne turned away.

“Very well. Keep the reason to yourself. I’ll not ask again.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. There was a challenge in his voice as the words drifted across the water. “My father was at the gates. Does it not seem obvious to you?”

“If you only acted for your House, you would have killed me by now given what I know.”

The words hung heavy between them and an unnatural stillness filled the space. Feeling she overstepped her bounds and tempted the Stranger in the process, Brienne began to move towards her clothing before she found herself an unwilling participant in a reenactment of Aerys’ death.

“Wildfire.” The word made Brienne take pause. A shaky breath pushed past her lips as her head turned slowly towards the Kingslayer. He sat unmoving in the water and stared vacantly into the distance. It was as though he was back in the throne room rather than in the hot springs somewhere in the Riverlands.

“ Aerys was obsessed with it. Something about the way people burned when bathed in it gave him pleasure. The way skin melted off bone. I can still smell it in my dreams. No one was safe from it; innocent or otherwise. Over the years, he spiraled into madness. He saw threats around every corner, so he ordered his pyromancer to place the substance throughout the tunnels that run below the city. I begged him to surrender when my father came to the gates. I knew what my father’s bannermen would do to the city, but of course, Aerys didn’t listen. Casting all reason aside, he turned to his pyromancer and gave the order ‘Burn them all’. He just…”

The Kingslayer took pause. His eyes were hazy as he stared ahead. “I killed the pyromancer first. When I went after Aerys, he turned to flee, and I shoved my sword into his back. Even as he twitched on the ground, he just kept saying ‘Burn them all.’ He meant to see the entirety of the city dissolve into ashes with him, but in his madness, I think he expected to rise above it somehow. I slit his throat for good measure.”

Brienne felt her breathing shallow as she stared at him. Her eyes were wide in shock and she reached back to grab the bank of the hot springs for purchase. The water lapped against her meager breasts and the steam reddened her pale, freckled skin.

“Why… why didn’t you tell anyone?”

The question snapped the Kingslayer from whatever fog he was in. He startled slightly as though realizing where he was. A bitter laugh cut through the crisp night air as his face scrunched in disdain.

“You think the honorable Ned Stark cared to hear any of it? He took one look at me… at the king’s blood at my feet and soiling my cloak and sword… he judged me guilty then and there.”

Brienne’s face was crestfallen. Her eyes searched the Kingslayer’s and she nodded numbly. It seemed unfair that such a great deed was reviled. Minstrels should have sung of it, but instead, the man before her received scorn.

“My father told me that my name will never be known if I pursue a soldier’s life. That a woman wearing armor and mail will receive only scorn; not praise. He said that if that’s what I intend to do, at least do it well. Be honorable and righteous even if the world only laughs or jeers me. Of course, I could never be a knight like you, but I hope that I can make such honorable, selfless decisions as you did.”

The words caught Jaime by surprise. His brows furrowed, but he said nothing in reply. Shielding her ugliness as best she could, Brienne stepped from the water quickly and dressed.

With a moment’s hesitation, Brienne’s tone reflected the respect she gained for the man before her. “Goodnight, Ser Jaime.”

Unlike earlier, the man who Brienne once considered the worst to don the white cloak did not follow. Instead, Jaime averted his eyes and sat in the water as Brienne moved quickly back towards the encampment.

That night, Brienne considered the journey south. When their party first left Winterfell, Brienne thought Lord Renly genuine and Ser Jaime dishonorable. Her opinions of both men changed as quickly as a storm passing over Tarth.

_ Yet another reason to trust only the stars. So little is constant and clear in this world. _

It bothered Brienne how her changing opinion of Ser Jaime made her take pause. He committed one of the greatest acts that the kingdoms had ever seen. At the same time, he cuckolded his king, lay with his own sister, and put three babes in her.

Strangely, it was less bothersome to Brienne that the twins lay together. Disgusting, yes, but not the true failure of the act. In Brienne’s mind, it was worse that he committed treason by taking the king’s wife to bed and passing bastards as heirs.

With a sigh, Brienne rolled over on her bedroll and forced her eyes shut. Sleep soon found her. It was the first night that green eyes replaced blue eyes in her dreams.


	9. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime intercedes when Meryn demands a debt be paid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has a scene of assault (and threatened rape) similar to what we got in the show and book when Jaime and Brienne were captured.

When Jaime found sleep that night after forcing his way into the hot spring with Brienne, his sleep was fitful. He dreamt of Aerys burning men alive. He dreamt of Rhaella’s screams. He dreamt of wildfire. Despite those horrors, it was a different dream that unnerved him most. 

In past dreams, Jaime would chase Cersei through the fields at the Rock. Her golden hair caught the early morning rays as they both laughed and fled the castle. Every night in his dreams, Jaime would catch Cersei and spin her around. Their lips would meet, and she would not shove him away as would often happen in wakefulness.

While Jaime had dreamed of Brienne once on the journey south, the dreams the following nights were still of Cersei. It was on that night after bathing with Brienne that blue eyes replaced green eyes in his dreams. Brienne was the woman in his arms; her bright, blue eyes shining brightly as they stood in the field. 

Jaime awoke to Ser Boros shaking his shoulder. The large knight’s gruff voice filled the small tent.

“Your shift.”

Slipping on his boots and jerkin, Jaime picked up his sword belt and sword before moving towards Robert’s tent. As wakefulness entered his body, Jaime considered the events from earlier that evening. Sparring with Brienne had quickly become his favorite pastime on the journey south. While Jaime initially followed Brienne to the hot springs to ensure her safety and clean the stink off his own body, he thought it would be amusing to unnerve the young woman by slipping into the water with her.

There was something about her indignant scowl and pinked cheeks that amused him greatly. For as confident as Brienne was with a blade in hand, she was innocent, timid, and reserved when unarmed. 

Then Jaime’s mouth got the best of him and she rose from the water in righteous anger. Her body’s contours, or lack thereof, stood in stark contrast to Cersei. Where Cersei had womanly curves and full breasts, Brienne was long, lean, and muscular. 

Her body spoke to years of training in the yards, but despite that, her skin looked surprisingly smooth. There were curves to her hips and breasts, though subtle, which Jaime’s eyes greedily appraised as the water poured down her skin. The droplets traced her long, pale neck to her small, perky teats, and down to the blonde thatch of hair between her legs. And yet, despite the contrasting figure to that of his sweet sister, Jaime’s cock had hardened below the water’s surface.

_ Truly. This quarrel with Cersei needs to end. My cock has been left confused and desperate by Cersei’s coldness. _

Jaime convinced himself that it was Cersei’s anger at his refusal to kill Bran, coupled with Brienne’s asking him about Aerys, that caused his dreams to betray his truest desire. It hardly occurred to Jaime that he would never again chase green eyes instead of blue.

The conversation about Aerys weighed heavy on his mind. Never before had anyone asked  _ why  _ he killed the Mad King. It had always struck him odd.

_ By the gods… they called him the Mad King. Surely it was for a reason; a reason that could have seen my sword driven through his back. _

Even in telling Brienne, he did not expect the reaction he received. Despite thinking his own actions warranted, Jaime believed that the kingdoms would still see the act as little more than oathbreaking; that Aerys’ death was without honor. Jaime often wondered if the great knights before him would have condoned his decision or if they would have preferred that Jaime burn in wildfire with the rest of King’s Landing.

When daybreak poured through the forest canopy and onto the encampment below, Jaime rubbed his face and sighed as their party began to stir. Within an hour, tents were broken down and the march south continued.

As with the journey north, the pace was unbearably slow. Unlike the journey north, Jaime enjoyed the nights spent dancing beneath the stars with the peculiar woman from Tarth. Were it not for their begrudging companionship, Jaime would have gone mad from frustration over Cersei’s continued scorn.

With every passing day, Cersei’s anger intensified. Jaime knew the cause of it. When they were but children at the Rock and Jaime expressed little regard for Cersei’s vexation towards him, she would become even more irate at Jaime’s inattention. He never did it on purpose of course. Jaime was fixated on training with the goal of becoming a great knight. Once he recognized Cersei’s increasing ire, Jaime practically ran to her in apology. 

Now of course, Jaime could not run to her. They had nearly been exposed and beheaded at Winterfell. Strangely, Jaime was not feeling the immediate pull to grovel at Cersei’s feet. Even when he felt Cersei was in the wrong, Jaime always accepted blame to placate her. Not only had Jaime failed to commit murder for Cersei in the broken tower of Winterfell, but he now felt little desire to pretend at sorrow for it.

_ Fool. Does Cersei truly not see there was no way to push the boy and keep our heads on our shoulders? Why didn’t she trust that I had the situation under control? I bought their silence with their own need for secrecy. _

Looking away from his sister’s carriage, Jaime found himself looking for the Tarth girl. The Tarth men were often at the rear of the lines just after House Stark. The position was less than ideal. Yet again, honorable Ned stood between Jaime and respect.

When Brienne called him ‘Ser Jaime’, the reverence with which she spoke made his heart skip a beat. No one had ever spoken his title and name with genuine veneration since he was knighted in battle by Ser Arthur himself.

Later that day, the encampment stopped for the night. It had been a long day of riding with few breaks. By Jaime’s estimation, they were three days out from the city. That evening, Jaime had the first shift and Ser Meryn would relieve him in a few hours’ time. 

Strangely, Jaime lamented the inability to spar with Brienne. In just a few days, she would be on a boat to Tarth, and they would likely never cross paths again. Shaking the thought from his head, Jaime snorted and huffed a small laugh.

_ I’ll be rid of her is more like it. She occupies too much of my time as it is. I’ve barely been able to take rest between thrashing her about and taking my guard duties. Stubborn, lumbering, boring beast. _

The camp was quiet as many had retired earlier than usual after a long day of travel. Crackling campfires and rustling leaves were the only sounds to be heard throughout the resting escort. Then Jaime heard something in the distance.

Straining to hear, something to the north made him take pause. Men’s laughter and jeering drifted through the air. Then he heard a woman’s voice. Brienne’s.

Abandoning his post, Jaime ran through the rows of tents and roaring campfires. The handful of men still awake watched in confusion as Jaime sped past them. Unsheathing his sword, Jaime felt his heart in his throat as he ducked under low-lying branches and jumped over downed logs.

The distance to the sound’s source seemed to stretch on for eternity. Following the voices through the darkened woods, Jaime saw a clearing come into view. Brienne was being held to the ground by half a dozen soldiers as Meryn sneered and stood before Brienne. Her tunic was in tatters and her face bloodied. Barking at one of the men, Meryn smiled ruthlessly.

“Go on then boys. Teach her a lesson. Everyone gets a go at her.”

Jaime ran into the clearing and drove his sword through a man approaching Brienne’s back and unlacing his breeches. At Jaime’s arrival, the men moved away from Brienne and began to run towards the encampment. Grabbing one of the offenders, Jaime spun him around and shoved the hilt of his sword into the man’s nose. A sickening crunch echoed throughout the clearing and the man fell to the ground, clutching at his face.

As the men cleared out, Ser Meryn growled at Jaime. “You’re to be on guard! I’m handling this bitch.”

“Handling her!? She’s a highborn woman! You had these men attack her!”

Ser Meryn took a step forward; his chest heaving with rage. “She assaulted me and I’m teaching the bitch a lesson! I’m a Kingsguard!”

“Assaulted you?” Jaime glanced to the ground. Slowly, Brienne pushed to her feet and clutched her torn clothing tightly to her body.

Taking off his white cloak, Jaime draped it over her protectively. Ignoring Meryn, Jaime looked Brienne in the eyes. Blood flowed from her nose and lip, and her eye was beginning to swell.

“Brienne. What happened?”

“I… I was just training. Then the men came and told me to put down my sword. I did as they asked.”

At her words, Jaime’s eyes flitted to Meryn. He offered little more than a challenging brow. “She struck me at Winterfell. I have witnesses to it, and we were merely punishing her for striking a Kingsguard when he was unaware.”

“Unaware!? You were defeated soundly while standing before her with a sword in hand. This woman is of House Tarth. Perhaps you forget where that is, so allow me to remind you. That is a prominent vassal House of the Stormlands. Might you recall where our king is from? I’ll give you a hint… it’s the same kingdom you’re from, you dolt. You had the men attack the daughter of a loyal vassal, all because she knocked your worthless ass to the dust.”

At Jaime’s words, Meryn unsheathed his blade and took a menacing step forward. An amused smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. Meryn was cruel, but a coward; little more than Cersei’s creature. Both men knew that he stood no chance against Jaime.

Meryn sneered and spat his words through gritted teeth. “You deserted your post. Shall I inform the king?”

Jaime’s cutting smile matched the venom in his tone. “You instructed those men to beat and rape a noblewoman. Shall I inform the king?”

“That was a punishment!” Meryn’s face reddened in rage. 

“Punishment for your loss in an accepted contest? I hardly think our king will be pleased with that reasoning. Now… when Lord Selwyn hears about this, he may request punishment for the crime committed against his daughter. Even if I fail to report you, it might not save you.”

At the words, Meryn stiffened. His jaw hung open slightly before he huffed and took a step closer to Jaime.

“Punishment is owed to me! Isn’t that what you Lannister fucks are good for? Paying your debts.”

Jaime hummed and nodded in agreement. “Fair enough.” As quick as the lion adorning his House sigil, Jaime shoved the hilt of his sword into Meryn’s throat. The knight fell to his knees gasping for hair as Jaime crouched before him. It was a similar movement that Brienne used against Meryn at Winterfell, and it brought Jaime immense pleasure.

As much as Jaime longed to drive his sword through Meryn, he knew that he could not, nor could he leave blemishes that would warrant an unpleasant conversation with Robert.

“There is your punishment. Consider the debt paid, though I daresay you got off quite easy given what you’ve done. Now, you’re going to tell those men to keep their mouths shut and to stay away from the lady. You can take credit for executing the man attempting to dishonor Lady Brienne. After you do that, you’re going to take the rest of my shift  _ and _ yours.”

Meryn continued to clutch his throat as rage shone in his eyes. The man was not so foolish as to disagree with Jaime’s terms. Moving swiftly from the clearing, Meryn stomped back towards the encampment.

Jaime turned to Brienne and noted the shock on her face. “I told you not to practice out here alone, did I not?”

“I did as they said… I put down my sword.”

Taking another step forward, Jaime appraised Brienne’s face. The bleeding was slowing, and her nose did not appear broken anymore than it already had been from past traumas.

“Men like that have no honor; particularly Meryn Trant. Bearing the title ‘ser’ does not reflect inherent honor or decency. Come, let's get you back to your guards. I think you’ve had quite enough swordplay for one night.”

They moved quietly through the woods with Jaime glancing several times to Brienne’s face. She looked more bewildered than frightened or hurt. They soon reached the Tarth contingent and Jaime yelled for the men to wake.

Four guards stumbled from their tents in a daze. As Jaime appraised the men, he watched shock and horror flash across their features.

_ That’s right you dolts. You had one job and you’ve failed for weeks. Now the wrong Kingsguard came across her in the woods at night. _

Pointing at Brienne, Jaime raised a brow at the stammering guards. “I believe this is your lord’s daughter and heir, correct? Were you not charged with watching over her? Doesn’t seem to be going so well, does it?”

One of the men stepped forward; his jaw slack before he composed him. “My lady! My apologies… I… we didn’t know you were not in your tent.”

Brienne struggled for words and shook her head. “It’s alright. I... stepped out for a bit.”

“It is  _ not _ alright. As you can see, she did not go unharmed. She was almost dishonored, but one of my fellow Kingsguard dealt with the man. And what were you all doing? Resting? Taking yourselves in hand? Take it from me, guarding your charge is typically successful when standing nearby at attention.”

The men stood in stunned silence. Before any could form a reply, Jaime barked at them once more. “Why don’t one of you fetch her a fucking rag for her face? Where are her things?”

Springing into action, the men brought her both a wet and dry rag to clear her face and stem the bleeding. Another soldier moved from a tent with a satchel of her things.

“Your belongings, my lady.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed at the sack.

_ Gods. Cersei couldn’t fit one gown in that thing. _

“Thank you.” Brienne smiled at the man and took the bag. She moved quickly into a small tent to change quickly. When she emerged, Jaime was busy reprimanding the guards once more.

“Do you know why a Kingsguard is to stand outside the king’s tent during such travel?” After a moment’s pause, Jaime growled at the men. “To ensure his safety. Perhaps take a cue from us and schedule shifts outside her tent tonight. She was attacked by men among this very escort. She may be better than all of you with a blade, but she can’t fight off seven men alone.”

Handing the White Cloak to Jaime, Brienne bowed her head. “Thank you, Ser Jaime.”

Even in the limited light afforded by the campfire, Jaime could see the bruising at her eye. He grabbed her chin between his thumb and finger to tilt her face to meet his. With a sigh and shake of his head, Jaime grumbled.

“I’ll collect you from here on the morrow for a spar, yes? I’m certain your guards will be nothing but attentive before then.” The words were as much an order to Tarth’s guards as a question for Brienne.

With a small nod, Brienne offered her agreement. Jaime took a final look at the men and huffed in annoyance before walking back towards his own tent. He passed an angry looking Meryn Trant on the way. The amusement bubbling within was almost enough to replace his anger… almost.

“Have a wonderful evening Ser Meryn. I so appreciate you offering to take my shift before beginning your own.”

The remainder of the journey south passed too fast for Jaime’s taste. They entered the city gates and the Tarth contingent promptly veered towards the harbor. Glancing towards the king, Jaime noted Ned Stark at the man’s side. Both were speaking absently as their horses moved towards Aegon’s Hill.

Slowing his horse, Jaime looked to his side and spotted Brienne’s blonde hair bobbing up and down as she sat atop her horse. He recalled their training session from the night prior.

_ The night before _

“Now you’ll have to go back to sparring mediocrity on Tarth. Such a shame… you  _ almost _ had potential.”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the words. “Are all Lannisters this arrogant, or only you?”

“There are no men like me; only me.” Jaime spoke cockily as he reached for his waterskin. Passing Brienne some water, Jaime reached for the dagger at his hip. He handed it to her and nodded.

“You should wear a proper dagger at your hip when you train. A sword might not be ideal for close range. Take this one.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide, and she looked at the dagger. It was of a quality befitting a Great House. Jaime had received the dagger before leaving the Rock to squire many years ago. It had served him well in past battles, but it would serve Brienne well now.

“I can’t accept that. It’s too generous. I’ll procure one on Tarth as you recommend.”

Judging by the quality of the sword at her hip, a dagger of its equal would not suffice. He snorted and recalled some of his newly obtained information about Tarth. “Let Tarth stick to mining marble and take this dagger. My House has little tolerance for low-grade weaponry. I can get another of similar or better craftsmanship easily enough.”

Earlier that evening before finding Brienne for their nightly spar, Jaime placed a small piece of parchment around the blade before sheathing it. He wrote a small note, hoping she would read it later.

‘Don’t grimace when you lunge. Keep your stance open. Forget Renly fucking Baratheon.’

“Oh! One other thing…” Jaime reached into his coin purse and procured a gold dragon. Amusement danced in his eyes as he handed the coin to her. “Ser Meryn’s debt.”

Brienne laughed loudly and took the coin. The brightness of her smile was rivaled only by the sun. Jaime felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight and sound. He had never seen a more beautiful and carefree smile in his life.

“He actually gave you it to you?”

“He will when we return to King’s Landing, or I’ll reenact your victory on him before the other Kingsguard. I’m ensuring you receive the coin now.”

At the words, Brienne startled slightly. “Oh, I can’t take this. It’s your winnings. I was just the fighter to bid on.”

Brienne extended the coin to Jaime; the gold dragon held between her thumb and forefinger. Jaime shook his head in reply. Reaching for her hand, Jaime pushed the coin into her palm.

“It’s yours.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “It’s a gold dragon. I can’t… it’s too much.”

With an arrogant smirk, Jaime shrugged. “I’m a Lannister. Haven’t you heard? We shit gold. Keep it for luck.”


	10. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has been back in the city for a moon turn. He's missing a certain female fighter and enduring the tourney that Robert insisted on throwing for Ned.

It had been a moon turn since they returned to the capital, but to Jaime, it felt like a lifetime. He was surprised by how a few weeks changed so many facets of his life. Cersei still refused Jaime at every turn, and Jaime struggled to will away the blue eyes tormenting his mind. 

Within the first week of returning to King’s Landing, Robert declared that there would be a tourney to celebrate Ned’s appointment as Hand. The event was overdone and exorbitant in cost. As a Lannister, Jaime never had to think much about coin, but even he recognized the danger to the crown’s purse in Robert’s spending habits. 

_The crown will be indebted to my House for generations to come... if they don’t bleed the gold mines dry before then. I certainly don’t want to think on how Littlefinger is funding all of this if not my father’s purse._

Despite the protests, the day of the tourney had arrived. Jaime glanced around the grounds and sighed. It was a warm day and the sun was high. Several events had already been held with Loras winning the joust. The sight of the cocksure knight from the Reach annoyed Jaime.

_He couldn’t best me in my prime, though I’m certain he’ll happily receive Renly’s favor… and in their chambers later._

Jaime eyed the younger Baratheon as he smiled and laughed in the stands. His chest had swelled with pride when Loras won the event, and by all accounts, Loras was poised to win the melee too. 

The thought had crossed Jaime’s mind to enter the tourney, but he was on duty and the competition dull. For over a week, squires, would-be knights, and knights poured into the city. Everyone was eager to make a name for themselves in the capital, but there was no one so impressive to warrant competing against. 

Jaime glanced towards the royal box. Not surprisingly, Cersei and the children had made an early exit. Robert sat drunk and laughing with Ned at his side. The Stark patriarch looked anything but impressed by the tourney and feasting that had taken over the city. Like Jaime, Ned expressed his displeasure every step of the way. It was one of the few times that Jaime agreed with any drivel pouring from Ned Stark’s lips.

On account of the arena size, only fifty knights were allowed to enter the melee on horseback. As was often the case, most would soon be on their asses. The competitors slowly trickled in for the melee and the crowd grew rowdy with anticipation. It was cramped and Jaime grimaced at the sight of it. 

_This will turn into a fist fight. No finesse; just a fucking mess._

With all competitors in the arena, the melee began. Jaime found himself drifting between concentration and daydreaming. His mind wandered to Brienne on Tarth. Jaime wondered if she was well and enjoying the warm day under the island’s sunny skies. The thought of her practicing in the yards in naught but a tunic with sweat dripping down her brow caused his cock to twitch. 

_Gods. I need to find a way back into Cersei’s bed. My cock is getting desperate._

Glancing to the melee, Jaime rolled his eyes at the sight of Loras easily cutting through the competition. The crowd cheered at the Knight of Flowers and passed around drink as they waged bets. For the king’s part, he seemed disinterested in the melee. Until there were a handful of knights remaining, Robert, like Jaime, likely found the melee impossible to enjoy.

Too many men on the field prevented clean and skilled fighting. When there were a dozen remaining, Jaime would watch with greater interest. Slowly, men were felled and their horses raced towards the gates as their riders writhed on the ground. Squires rushed to drag the injured knights away so they wouldn’t be trampled by other riders seeking victory.

A loud thud caught Jaime’s attention. Loras had felled a massive knight in black armor. At the impact of the large knight, the crowd cheered wildly and a pleased expression spread across Renly’s face. Appraising the field, Jaime estimated twenty men remaining.

Given a mere three weeks to prepare for the tourney, most knights participating were from the Stormlands, Reach, and Riverlands. A few knights from the Crownlands and Dorne entered, but none who Jaime held any familiarity with.

From the corner of his eye, Jaime saw a knight unseat another rider with far more force than necessary. Jaime winced at the impact of the man’s fall. The felled knight’s helm rolled off to reveal a head of red hair and a bloody face. 

Jaime smirked as the man dizzily stumbled towards the gate. The knight who felled the man was one of the larger knights left on the field. He wore blue armor and wielded a morningstar better than most men held a sword.

_Who is that? Surely a hedge knight. There is no sigil adorning the armor._

Movement to the right drew Jaime’s attention away. Two more riders fell in pain and the field was beginning to shrink to a preferred number of competitors. 

_Now the true fighting begins. All the unworthy have been knocked to their asses._

There were roughly a dozen men remaining; all varying in size, skill, and kingdoms. It appeared that the Stormlands could lay claim to most of those remaining. Jaime was hardly surprised given what he knew of the kingdom. They were brutal fighters and best suited for this style of tourney event. While some of their better known knights, like Ser Barristan, had unmatched finesse, most reminded Jaime of Brienne; pure force and sheer determination. 

_No, that doesn’t do Brienne justice. She’s better than these men._

Jaime watched as the blue knight slammed another competitor off his horse. The manner in which he maneuvered around blows while holding position atop his horse and swinging the morningstar impressed Jaime. The weapon was not as commonly used and the man wielding it was more than efficient. 

Soon, six remained. Loras made quick work of his opponent before turning towards the next threat. From his position at the edge of the stands, Jaime surmised the champion would be Loras or the blue knight. They seemed similar in skill and their movements the most confident, but Loras would likely win. The thought was enough to make Jaime groan aloud. 

_Just what I need. The curly haired twat to win a second event at this tourney._

As expected, it was soon down to Loras and the blue knight. The pair made several passes at one another, but neither got the upperhand. They both moved well atop their mounts, but Loras had the slight reach advantage with his choice in weapon; the longaxe. Still, the blue knight proved evasive. The two battled around one another; each deftly dodging blows from the other. 

Then, the blue knight landed a thunderous blow to Loras’ chest. The knight from the Reach doubled over, but did not fall. Not giving Loras a moment to recover, the blue knight went for another hit, but Loras lunged forward. Limbs tangled with limbs and both riders fell from their horses. 

Jaime watched with rapt interest as the blue knight moved quickly to reclaim the advantage. As he pinned Loras to the ground, the knight raised his arm high with the morningstar offering an unspoken question. 

“Yield.” Loras’ words were loud enough to reach Jaime’s ears. As the blue knight stood and helped Loras up, Jaime’s brows furrowed. The height of the knight combined with his long, lean legs, pale hand boasting long, thin fingers, and a subtle curve at the hips sparked something in Jaime,

_Is that? No…it can’t be._

A loud guffaw from the royal box caught Jaime’s attention. Robert’s belly shook with mirth and his face reddened from joy as he reached down and slapped the back of Renly’s head. “Your little friend lost, Renly.”

Standing from his seat, Robert barked at the victorious knight. “Come now. Who do we have here that knocked Ser Loras to his ass?”

Jaime’s jaw dropped as the blue knight removed his helm. Pale blonde hair was pushed back to reveal the stunning, blue eyes which haunted Jaime’s dreams every night. A smile spread slowly across Jaime’s face as he stared at Brienne. Any noise from the crowd was silenced by the shock of a woman standing before the king from the field. 

Turning his head towards the royal box, Jaime noted the horror in Ned’s eyes and the confusion on Robert’s face. Within a heartbeat, Robert’s confusion gave way to amusement. A loud laugh rumbled in his belly and pushed past his lips, echoing off the arena walls. 

“No wonder your father can’t marry you off! What man wants to be knocked to the ground by his wife every day. Ha! Brienne Tarth, come here girl.”

Brienne swallowed thickly and took tentative steps towards the railing separating the stands from the field. Robert stepped closer towards Brienne; descending steps along the way. 

Moving quickly at Robert’s back, Renly smiled and clapped. “A proper Stormlander. Well fought, Lady Brienne. Your father did not embellish when he spoke of your skill last year.”

_Much like you didn’t embellish about her looks, you miserable shit? Gods I hope she has that dagger on her._

At the praise from the king and his brother, the crowd slowly began to applaud the melee champion, and Brienne’s face flushed from embarrassment. The only person to look unamused by the situation was Ned who paled and stood on shaky legs as he moved quickly to Robert’s side. 

Jaime couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but Brienne pointed back towards the stands on the opposite side of the arena. A man in clothing befitting a Tarth knight gave a bow at the obvious reference by Brienne. 

The conversation did not go on much longer before Robert, Renly, and Ned left the stands to enter the king’s tent. With the tourney over, the crowd began to dissipate and the competitors limped back to their tents. 

Seizing the opportunity to speak with Brienne, Jaime slowly followed her towards the competitors' station. The knight she had pointed to was at her side and they spoke in hushed tones. Affording them a moment to step inside one of the tents, Jaime pulled back the flap and called out. 

“Do all soldiers on Tarth fight like that, or just the future Evenstar?”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne startled and spun around. “Ser Jaime. Hello.” 

Jaime stepped into the tent and eyed the knight standing by a small table in the corner. The man looked to be around Jaime’s age. He had blonde hair, hazel eyes, and sun weathered skin. 

As Jaime appraised the man, the knight bowed briefly before returning his attention to Brienne. The knight’s hands began to help remove Brienne’s armor and it was then that Jaime realized how ill-fitted it was. The chest plate ended too low, and the pauldrons were too bulky for Brienne’s frame. 

Something about the familiarity between the pair unsettled Jaime. A slight hint of jealousy swirled in Jaime’s gut as the man’s knuckles brushed against Brienne’s skin as he worked to remove the armor.

“Ser Jaime, this is Ser Endrew. He is my father’s Master at Arms.”

Jaime appraised the man before him. “The one who trained you with your father? He seems a bit young.”

The knight snorted as he worked. “My predecessor trained Tarth’s pride and joy; not me.”

_Pride and joy? Your shit guards didn’t treat her as such on the journey south._

At the praise, Brienne’s cheeks pinked. Strangely, Jaime found he didn’t like seeing the flush of Brienne’s cheeks when it was earned by anyone not him. She stammered a reply as a fond smile stretched across her face. 

“Ser Endrew embellishes. His _predecessor_ was his father… Ser Goodwin.”

The name was not familiar to Jaime. He considered the younger knight once more. “I’m not familiar with Ser Goodwin.”

Brienne rolled her eyes in reply. “So he must not exist then if you don’t know him?”

Endrew chuckled at her back and removed the final pieces of Brienne’s armor. She smiled and nodded at the knight. “Thank you. Apologies for the dents. I’ll have the smith fix it.”

The young Master at Arms chuckled and put the armor on the table. “Don’t worry about it, my lady. That’s the most action my armor has seen in years. Now I can pretend at having done something.”

_Ah. It’s his armor. That explains the poor fit._

“Do you not have your own armor?”

At Jaime’s question, Brienne chuckled lightly and met his eyes. “Somehow I don’t think armor is on the list of proper attire for a noblewoman. My father thinks that Ser Endrew entered the tourney...” Her eyes darted back at the man and a smirk tugged at her lips. “...and I enjoyed watching from the stands.”

Endrew sighed and shook his head. “You should have let Loras win. Word will surely get back to him now.”

The truth of his words elicited a grimace from Brienne. “Yes, I got a bit caught up in the moment. I’m sorry. I’ll tell him the truth when we return.”

With a warm hand to Brienne’s arm, Endrew shook his head. “He’ll get over it. Just don’t tell Roelle. The old bird may die of heart failure. I’ll go fetch you some water. Nicely done out there.”

Without another word, the young knight left the tent. Jaime smirked as he appraised Brienne. 

“I imagine your father will be as pleased about this as his wretched friend, Ned Stark.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips. “I’m certain I’ll get an earful from him as well. It likely wasn’t the smartest decision to enter today, but… I wanted one more go at it.”

“One more go at it? What do you mean?”

Any lightness in Brienne’s tone was replaced by sorrow. “I’m… not allowed to train any longer. My father decided it’s time that I do my duty now. No more sword play.”

“Well you’ve not disobeyed him. I do believe you knocked Loras to his ass with a mornginstar.” 

Amusement was heavy in Jaime’s tone as he took another step towards Brienne. It felt incredible to be near her again. Jaime missed their nightly sparring and conversations. His words drew a small laugh from Brienne. 

“Fair point. I might use that reply when he berates me about this.”

Jaime bit his lip and tried to hold back the laughter threatening to escape. “I quite enjoyed watching Loras humbled by the _pride of Tarth_. I suppose he’ll be a touch less insufferable at the victory feast. I’ll relish watching him scowl everytime you pass.”

“Oh, I’m not going to the feast.” 

At Brienne’s reply, Jaime’s spirits fell. “But you won.”

“Yes, quite problematic really. I don’t think that was a very sound decision on my part. My father’s orders to myself and Ser Endrew were clear. We are to return after the tourney ends. He doesn't want us lingering in the city and drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

Jaime guffawed. “Unnecessary attention? Yes, well it’s a good thing you only won the melee in front of the entire court, tourney competitors, and attendees from the city. Quite inconspicuous indeed.”

Brienne grimaced once more. “I hadn't considered victory a possibility. I just… well… no matter. I’m certain no one will miss my absence at the feast.”

_I will._

Jaime startled at his own thoughts. With a hum and small shrug, Jaime’s tone played at indifference. “Well had I known that you required discretion, I would have entered the melee and beaten you all easily enough. No one would have noticed you then.”

Brienne snorted at the words and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m glad to see you’ve not lost your confidence.”

“Lost it? I could no sooner lose my eye color or stature. It’s simply a part of me.” Enjoying the peeved reaction his words were provoking, Jaime chuckled. “You did well enough though. Lucky for you that I was too bored at the sight of the competition to enter.”

A small smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. She reached into her tunic pocket and pulled out the gold dragon that Jaime had given her before they parted ways. “Lucky indeed.”

Jaime smiled widely and took another step closer. He took the coin and flipped it in his hand. “Ah, so you cheated. The truth is revealed. My skill transferred itself to the coin.”

Before Brienne could reply, the tent flap pushed back quickly and Ned Stark entered the tent. His eyes flitted between Jaime and Brienne; his face a storm. Then Ned’s suspicious eyes settled on Jaime.

“What are you doing in here?”

With a cutting smile, Jaime raised a brow at Ned. “I was congratulating the victor and inquiring if she’ll be at the feast.”

“She won’t be. I need to speak with Lady Brienne. I believe you’re meant to be guarding his Grace.”

Jaime snorted and inspected the coin in his hand before replying. “Yes, I’d hate for him to pass out drunk in the tent without me standing guard outside it.”

Turning back to Brienne, Jaime handed her the coin and smiled. “I hope your luck does not run out upon return. Well fought, Lady Brienne.”

With a wink at Brienne, Jaime left the tent and nodded at Ser Endrew as he returned with water. Before the knight could enter, Jaime put up a hand to halt his progress. 

“Why won’t her father let her train any longer?”

Endrew huffed a laugh and nodded. “She’s the best we have. Lord Selwyn was less than pleased upon her return to Tarth. I don’t know why… something about making a scene before King Robert. The men only shared she had a run in with the king’s escort.”

Jaime had the context that Endrew lacked. It was likely that Lord Selwyn was upset at how close Briennen came to Robert while at Winterfell and on the journey south. The Evenstar’s avoidance of the mainland was for good reason, and a desire to keep Brienne safe likely resulted in her limited allowance for travel. 

_He must be afraid of the exposure to Robert. Why did he let her come to the city for a tourney?_

“That wasn’t her fault. I was there for it, and Lord Selwyn shouldn’t cut off her training because of it. Can you keep sparring with her?”

The knight looked uneasy. “Yes, when the men reported what happened on the move south, she told me that you gave aid. Thank you for _that_ . Of course, that fact hardly tempered Lord Selwyn’s displeasure at the situation. I take my orders from my lord and Evenstar. That is my _formal_ stance on the matter. Now, if my lady wanders into the training yard at night and I can’t see my opponent’s face very well...”

Endrew’s implication was clear. He could not formally train with Brienne, but he would try to find a way to help her practice. While pleased that the knight would aid Brienne, Jaime felt another pang of jealousy at not being able to enjoy a spar under the stars with Brienne. 

Jaime nodded and moved to step away, but took pause. He glanced back at Endrew and spoke curtly. 

“Your men need better discipline. Guarding someone typically requires standing nearby.”

With an eyeroll that Brienne would be proud of, the knight huffed and moved into the tent. Jaime could barely hear him utter the word as the tent flap fluttered behind him. ‘Kingslayer’


	11. Littlefinger I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Littlefinger obtains information that will incite chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short Littlefinger chapter. I aim to get the next chapter (Jaime POV) edited and posted within a couple of hours.

Littlefinger was a man of secrets. His network of spies was rivaled only by that of Varys, but Littlefinger’s sources were more pliable.

_ A customer finding release speaks with a looser tongue than the whores servicing them. _

With Ned Stark at his back, Littlefinger hurried the man towards one such establishment. Of course, the honorable Ned Stark did not wish to take a whore to bed, though there was a woman waiting for him. 

Earlier that morning, Catelyn Stark sought out Petyr. It was a mere six weeks after her kin arrived at the capital. She seemed frantic and desperate, but otherwise unwilling to divulge what brought her south in such haste.

“What is this? I want no business here.” Ned grumbled at Petyr’s back and his footsteps ceased. 

With a heavy sigh, Littlefinger turned to face Ned as he hesitated before the brothel entrance. “I can assure you, Lord Stark, that the attendant inside is one you’ll have no need to pay for.”

Without awaiting response, Littlefinger moved quickly through the brothel and towards a back room. Ned followed closely at his back. The dim lighting and moans of pleasure wafting under closed doors guided the way as Littlefinger stepped into a room on the right hand side of the hallway.

Upon entering, a cloaked Catelyn stood quickly in greeting. When husband and wife locked eyes, they each moved quickly to one another. The embrace set off a wave of jealousy in Littlefinger that was impossible to suppress. When the couple broke the embrace, Catelyn glanced around Ned’s frame and met Petyr’s eyes.

“Thank you, Petyr. Please, I just need a moment with Ned.”

Biting back his displeasure, Littlefinger nodded and reached for the door handle. “Yes, of course. I’ve matters to attend to in my office. I’ll see you later Catelyn, though it was wonderful catching up.”

In truth, they had not spent much time together before Catelyn urged Littlefinger to seek out Ned, but a part of Petyr hoped to make Ned jealous. Littlefinger wished to remind Ned of the special bond he and Catelyn had from their childhood. If Littlefinger had things his way, Catelyn would be a Baelish, not a Stark.

Stepping away quickly from the room, Littlefinger moved next door. It was no coincidence that Petyr placed Catelyn in  _ that _ room. Several rooms throughout the brothel were configured for the purpose of obtaining information. Peepholes were placed discretely throughout the brothel to enable Littlefinger to collect information and maintain his position of power. Knowledge was the key to power for a man such as Petyr Baelish.

As he looked through the peephole, Baelish felt bile rise in his throat. Ned’s hand brushed through Catelyn’s hair lovingly. They spoke quietly, but not quietly enough.

“What are you doing here? I’ve not been gone three moons.”

Catelyn took a steadying breath and guided Ned towards the chairs set out at a corner table. The table was even closer to the peephole which ensured that Petyr didn’t have to strain as much to hear their words.

“After you left, Bran was attacked. The staff found Bran after he fell from his window. Whether Bran was trying to get back inside or flee, we are not certain.”

Panic spread across Ned’s features as he grabbed Catelyn’s hand. There was an unspoken question in his eyes that Catelyn immediately answered.

“He lives, though in what condition, I am not certain. We found the man who attacked him. He was sent by the Lannisters. Ned, it isn’t safe here. I’m afraid for our family and for Brienne.”

Ned shook his head and tried to calm Catelyn as she became increasingly upset with every word uttered. Her shoulders shook from unshed tears and her auburn hair swayed with the movement of her head.

“Slow down. Why would the Lannisters seek to hurt Bran or Brienne?”

Taking a deep breath, Catelyn calmed herself. “I’m so sorry, Ned. I couldn’t tell you before you left. Bran and Brienne were speaking openly of Rhaella in the woods. Jaime Lannister overheard them, though he did not immediately tell Robert of Brienne’s lineage. Not long after, Bran was climbing the ruined tower. Bran  _ saw them _ . The Lannister twins. Ned, the children are not Robert’s. The Kingslayer used knowledge of Brienne’s lineage to hold our tongues. He said that if we spoke a word of it to anyone, he would tell Robert.”

Ned paled at the words. His eyes were troubled as he considered the information. Taking in the scene, Baelish smiled to himself. The information would help his effort to fuel tensions and ignite a war between House Stark and House Lannister. Littlefinger would not rest until Catelyn was his. In the process, he could clear the path to the throne and remove House Lannister from power.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing. No one else can know of this. I’ve been suspecting that the children’s true lineage is the very reason the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn. I think he was onto something and the Lannisters must have found out.”

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Ned shook his head. “Is there anything else I must know?”

Catelyn shook her head and sighed. “No. That’s the whole of it. I’m worried about Brienne. What if the Lannisters send someone for her?”

Ned put up a placating hand. “First you need to leave the city. I can’t have the Lannisters thinking you’re on to them. Send a missive to Lord Selwyn warning him to keep Brienne guarded and on the island. Don’t tell him of the  _ real _ reason. Simply state Robert was at Winterfell when Brienne was. We moved south together and while we tried to ensure no suspicions were aroused, you can never be too cautious. Robert did talk to Brienne at one point. I’m certain she’ll confirm as much to her father. Cat… she came here for a tourney a fortnight ago. She won. The girl needs to stay on that island.”

Standing from her seat, Catelyn brushed out her skirts. Equipped with all the information he needed, Littlefinger quickly moved from the adjoining room and towards his office. While he lacked context for how Brienne was related to Rhaella, it mattered little. It was only enough to know that Ned helped hide the girl's Targaryen blood. He could spin the tale to his choosing. 

Over the next few days, Littlefinger considered all manner of approach to using the newly acquired information to his advantage. It was in a small council session where the answer came to him. Robert had been enraged after Varys’ latest report that the Targaryen girl across the sea was with child.

Ned stood before the king and refused to support the campaign to see the girl killed. Throwing his Hand pin to the desk, Ned stormed out of the room. The first fissure in the friendship between Ned and Robert was visible to all, including Littlefinger.

After the small council ended, Littlefinger sought out Cersei. The two walked side by side through the gardens towards an area that Littlefinger knew only his spies to be. He spoke in hushed tones at Cersei’s side.

“I’ve heard a most foul rumor being perpetuated by Lord Stark these past days. One that would be most unfortunate for you and your babes.”

At the words, Cersei stiffened. Her brows knitted together before her eyes darted around the area they found themselves in.

“What might these foul rumors be?”

Leaning in, Littlefinger ensured there was little room for doubt in what he knew. “Not a single Baratheon feature, though the children look  _ so much _ like the man you were spotted with in a tower.”

The seed was planted. Littlefinger watched as a mix of fear and rage swirled in green eyes. “To describe these rumors as foul is an understatement. They are false and punishable by death. If I were you, I would be careful in repeating them.”

A nearly imperceptible smirk tugged at Littlefinger’s features. “It is why I present them only to you.”

With the necessary information supplied to Cersei, Littlefinger sought out the king next. The seeds of discord would be different, but equally strong. It would see the fissure between Ned and his king become a valley.

Robert sat at his desk drinking when Littlefinger entered the room. With only a timid looking Lancel Lannister in the corner, Littlefinger smiled at his king.

“Your grace, it is out of respect for Lord Stark and you that I did not raise a concern during small council earlier today. I humbly request your cupbearer afford us privacy. I have no desire to disparage your friend in front of  _ anyone _ .”

Offering a glance at Lancel, Baelish hoped the king understood his meaning. In truth, Littlefinger wanted to keep certain information out of Lannister hands. Petyr knew Lancel to be one of Cersei’s task takers.

Robert grumbled and ordered Lancel to refill his wine up. With a shaking hand, the young Lannister poured out what little remained in his jug.

“Don’t just stand there… get more! Seven hells.” Robert narrowed his eyes as Lancel dashed from the room. The king’s attention turned back to Littlefinger; his brows knitted in contemplation.

Robert’s distrust for nearly everyone around him was apparent, and Littlefinger knew that he was among the least trustworthy in the king’s eyes. That would hardly matter in what Baelish was to say. He only needed to cause a flicker of doubt in the king’s mind.

“Out with it then! I don’t have all day.”

With a nod, Littlefinger began. “I fear the truth of why Lord Stark refuses to see the Targaryen girl killed. He is a Targaryen sympathizer, your Grace.”

“You watch your tongue! Ned Stark is the brother I chose. He fought beside me  _ against _ the Targaryens. He’s a good man, but too honorable for his own good at times. He’ll come around.”

Biting back a smile, Littlefinger nodded and continued. “Nor do I doubt that, your Grace. I do recall hearing tales of how Lord Stark condemned the deaths of Rhaegar’s children. It caused quite a rift between you. Further, I have come to find out that Lord Stark has been withholding information from you regarding another Targaryen in Westeros.”

Robert’s eyes widened at the words. He leaned forward in his chair and a heavy silence fell over the room. Abruptly, Robert’s hand flew at Littlefinger’s chest. He grabbed Littleginer’s jerkin and tugged him close. With a snarl, the king glared at Littlefinger

“What Targaryen in Westeros?”

“Brienne Tarth, your Grace. I do believe they were a House who did not answer your call during the rebellion, correct? Curious considering they are a vassal of Storm’s End. Perhaps her relation to Rhaella kept them away?”

Shoving Littlefinger back forcefully, Robert barked in the direction of the door. “Guards!”

Before Littlefinger could react, Ser Boros and Ser Mandon moved into the room quickly. Littlefinger felt his heart beating wildly as he stared up at Robert’s reddened face. “Call the bloody Gold Cloaks! I want Ned Stark brought here! Now!”

A victorious smile spread across Littlefinger’s face as he watched the guards scramble from the room.

_ This will be Ned’s undoing. _


	12. Jaime VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned is arrested and Robert goes for a hunt to blow off some steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! This is the second chapter to go up with the Littlefinger POV before it.

Bolting upright in his bed, Jaime’s breathing was labored, and a light sweat coated his body. Most nights, Jaime dreamed of chasing blue eyes through a field at the Rock. He would awake hard and wanting with the only reprieve being his hand.

Other nights, like the last, Jaime dreamed of Rhaella’s screams from behind a barred door as Aerys forced himself on her. In those dreams, Jaime saw intermittent flashes of Brienne in the woods surrounded by Meryn and the soldiers. Like his dreams of Rhaella, Jaime could not get to Brienne.

Standing from the bed, Jaime moved towards the water basin in the corner and splashed his face with the cool liquid. It vexed Jaime how persistent his thoughts of Brienne had become. A fortnight had passed since the tourney. It was another fortnight not finding pleasure in Cersei’s bed. Part of Jaime questioned if he even wanted that.

The strings that held together their tattered relationship snapped when Jaime failed to push Bran from the tower. Any lingering connective tissue broke away on the journey south when Cersei continued to refuse Jaime, and Brienne barged into Jaime’s heart without invitation.

It had taken every bit of restraint within Jaime to not write to Brienne. He had an all-consuming need to know how Selwyn reacted to her tourney participation and if Endrew continued to help her train. When Jaime saw Brienne at the tourney some weeks ago, he neglected to ask if Brienne saw his note. 

He longed to know if she took his advice to heart; both on matters of swordplay and love. Seeing Renly fucking Baratheon at the Keep every day caused inexplicable feelings of jealousy to swirl in Jaime’s gut. It seemed unjust that a man such as Renly should have the adoration of Brienne.

Jaime readied himself for the day and donned his armor, cloak, and sword. The day prior, Robert had ordered Ned Stark’s capture and imprisonment. Little information behind the king’s decision circulated among the Kingsguard; only that Littlefinger was in Robert’s office when the orders were given. Jaime imagined it was connected to Ned’s refusal to stay on as Hand.

_ Idiots. They’ll be at one another’s throat later today and make amends on the morrow. Perhaps I should pay old Ned a visit in the cells and have a good laugh at his expense. _

After Ned was arrested by the Gold Cloaks, Arys Stark went missing. Sansa despaired over her father’s arrest and spent much of her day sobbing into her Septa’s lap. The Stark’s household staff was moved from the Tower of the Hand into the guest wing until Ned’s release. 

When Ned was brought before Robert, the northern lord refused to speak with the king. Robert raged and demanded that Ned spend the night in the cells until he found his tongue. 

Making his way downstairs, Jaime passed chambermaids and other castle staff as they milled about. He grabbed an apple off a serving platter as he passed through the dining hall. The castle was quiet with Robert away. In his fury, the king demanded a hunt to clear his mind.

It wasn’t unusual that Robert would deal with his anger by taking to the woods and hunting boar. Ser Barristan, Renly, Lancel, and Ser Meryn had accompanied the king at dawn that morning. Neither of the Kingsguard looked pleased to hear of their king’s plans the night prior. Even Renly who was usually a more agreeable companion on hunts looked irritated. 

When Loras left the city after the tourney, Renly’s mood had soured considerably. The younger Baratheon followed his brother around in a huff and scowled at the command that they would ride out before dawn for a hunt. 

Then there was Lancel who forever looked ready to shit himself in the king’s presence. The dismay of Robert’s hunting companions meant a prolonged rest for Jaime… had he been able to take advantage of it.

_ Gods damned bastard princess with her stupid blue eyes. She ruined my plans for extended rest from a canceled guard duty. _

Taking a bite of his apple, Jaime wandered outside to enjoy the peace and quiet before Robert returned. The morning air was cool, and a heavy dew lined the grass. Chomping on the tart fruit, Jaime huffed in annoyance.

_ Were it not for that stupid tower, the Stark boy, and the bastard princess, I’d be in Cersei’s bed right now. _

In years past, just the thought of being abed with Cersei would make Jaime’s cock twitch. Now the image of slipping into his sister’s room conjured no such reaction in his breeches.

_ My cock truly is broken. The gods deprive me of proper arousal as punishment for taking myself in hand to those ridiculous blue eyes. What kind of gods even make eyes that pretty? Absurd. _

Memories of sparring Brienne on the journey south, taking a dip in the hot springs, and watching her pummel Ser Meryn brought an easy smile to Jaime’s face. The image of her beating the worthless knights into the dirt at the tourney played out in his mind. At the thoughts rushing through his mind, Jaime’s cock sprang to life.

_ Fuck. Broken indeed. Best stop that line of thinking. _

Jaime soon made his way to the yards after finishing his apple. He was able to get a couple hours of practice in before the yards became too crowded for his taste. Making his way inside, Jaime took lunch and spent the early afternoon avoiding his room. Jaime feared that sitting idle would see him writing some absurd sonnet to the bastard princess. It was not much longer before chaos erupted at the Keep.

The hunting party returned earlier than expected. A makeshift stretcher had been formed to transport a gravely wounded Robert into the Keep. Jaime’s eye went wide as Barristan ran ahead shouting for Pycelle and running toward the royal apartments to inform Cersei.

As the men carried their king inside, Jaime stood frozen with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. There had been a time when Jaime thought Robert would outlive them all. He imagined the king would drink and whore himself to death at the ripe age of ninety; anything, it seemed, to ensure that Jaime knew no happiness with Cersei in this lifetime.

Jaime appraised the king’s wound as Renly’s frantic hands changed out the blood-soaked cloth in favor of a new one. A gaping hole oozed with blood. Tissue and shredded fabric hung from the king’s left side.

_ He’s truly fucked. Did a boar get him? Better a boar than a stag I suppose.  _

Following the men into the Keep, Jaime appraised the men with the king. They were all covered in varying amounts of blood from tending to Robert in the field. Renly appeared grief-stricken while Ser Meryn and Lancel moved the king along silently with the help of a few gold cloaks.

After Robert was brought into his room for treatment, four Kingsguard including Jaime were stationed outside Robert’s room. Ser Barristan sent Ser Boros, Ser Meryn, and Ser Mandon to stand guard outside Joffrey’s room. Should the king not survive, Joffrey would be next in line. Though not of age, he would take the crown and Robert would need to appoint a Lord Regent.

_ With our luck, the fool won’t even do that. He’ll put a boy on the throne with no one to guide him. No one other than Cersei, which means Cersei is ruling the kingdoms.  _

It seemed laughable now. There was a time when Jaime would have given anything to see Cersei sit alone on the throne. He would have happily stood guard from inside her chambers; without his cloak, sword, or armor of course. Now the thought made Jaime take pause.

_ What kind of ruler would she make? Would serving as Regent temper her worst impulses? Would it make her happier? _

Hours seemed to pass as they stood outside. Only Pycelle and Renly were in the room with the king. It struck Jaime as odd that Cersei had yet to arrive, but when she finally made the effort to show up and pretend at concern, it was with Lancel at her heels.

“Lancel tells me that our king is wounded? How is my lord husband?”

When Cersei spoke in contrived worry to Barristan, the sorrow did not reach her features. Jaime’s eyes darted to Ser Barristan; the man to whom the question had been directed.

“We don’t yet know. Grand Maester Pycelle is in with him now. So is Lord Renly.”

Cersei sneered at the words. “Lancel, go get Joffrey. We should be in there with the king.  _ We _ are the family that matters; not Renly.”

Pushing past Barristan, Cersei moved into the room. A sea of crimson and gold silk followed in her wake before she slammed the door shut behind her. Not long after, Joffrey moved quickly down the hall with the other Kingsguard at his back.

“Where is my father!?” Joffrey’s squeaky voice echoed off the Keep walls. It took everything in Jaime not to roll his eyes.

_ Truly, he is the worst of them. A deranged squirt of seed. _

“Prince Joffrey, his Grace is being tended to be Grand Maester Pycelle.”

Joffrey’s eyes scanned the Kingsguard. “Uncle Jaime, take me inside.”

_ Why me? Why must I be punished? _

With a resigned nod, Jaime moved towards the door and stepped inside. Joffrey followed at Jaime’s heels and rushed to Robert’s bed. Jaime’s eyes scanned the chambers and he noted Cersei sitting on a corner chair looking untroubled as ever. When their eyes met, he could see the disdain writ across her face, but the faintest smirk tugged at her lips.

_ What’s that about? _

Pycelle finished placing Robert’s wrappings. The aged maester looked to Joffrey and bowed his head. After giving an update of the king’s physical state, Pycelle stood back and allowed Joffrey to sit beside his father.

The room stunk of looming death. Jaime had half a mind to leave, but Pycelle’s words made him take pause. “I’ll get the Lord Commander at your request, your Grace.”

Jaime walked slowly to the bed. His eyes were a question as he considered Robert. A light sweat coated the king’s forehead and his eyes were glassy. Assuming his haze on account of the poppy, Jaime instead looked to Renly.

“What happened?”

Renly was bereft. He spoke as though Robert was already dead. “I don’t know. It happened so fast.”

The door at Jaime’s back creaked open to reveal Barristan and Pycelle. The men were speaking in hushed tones as they approached the bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed before Robert, Joffrey’s hand gripped the king’s. Robert’s raspy voice filled the room as the king stared at Joffrey. “I should have spent more time with you. Shown you how to be a man. I was never fit to be a father.”

Jaime bit his tongue; his eyes darting to Cersei. Before their eye contact could be noticed by others, Jaime looked to the floor.

“Go on.” The king’s voice was commanding despite lacking strength. “You don’t need to see this.”

Without another word, Joffrey fled the room. Barristan approached Jaime’s side. Even without looking, Jaime could sense the man’s fatigue. Barristan endured Robert, but there had always been a resignation in his eyes. A sadness at Rhaegar’s death that Jaime understood in ways that Barristan would ever realize or accept.

As the door shut behind Joffrey, a shaky laughter pushed past the king’s lips. “My fault. Too much wine. Missed my thrust.”

At the words, Jaime’s eyes flitted to Cersei once more. She was looking down, but Jaime could see the hint of a smile at her lips. Concealing her mirth, Cersei raised her head and donned a cool mask. Jaime could see the truth in her eyes though. They were twins after all.

_ What did she do? Did she have Lancel do this? That stupid boy is always following Robert around with that bloody jug of wine. _

In past trysts when they hid away in darkened corners, Cersei would often fantasize at how easy it would be to kill Robert. Jaime remembered it then.

_ “The great fool is going to drink himself to death. Mayhap he just needs a little help along the way. Someone to something into his drink before he’s to play with his silly hammer or spear.” _

Renly sat at his brother’s bedside as Robert struggled to breathe. “Get me a parchment and quill dammit! I need to write my orders. Renly is to serve as Lord Regent until Joffrey comes of age. The boy isn’t ready. Too young.”

A strange relief washed over Jaime. Part of Jaime had feared that Robert might name Stannis if he named anyone at all.

Grand Maester Pycelle brought Renly a paper and quill. Before Robert began, he barked at everyone assembled. “All of you out! All except my brother. We have things to discuss.”

“But Robert, sweet…” Cersei’s honey tones drifted across the room, but Robert would have none of it. He cut her off sternly as his face reddened in rage.

“I said out!”

They all moved quickly from the room leaving the Baratheon brothers alone. Jaime wondered what words would pass between the pair, and part of Jaime wondered what was going on with Ned Stark in the cells.

As Jaime moved away from the door, Cersei’s arm brushed against him as she passed. Her hips swayed in a manner that was an invitation for later. By invitation, Jaime knew it to be a demand. A demand he eagerly honored to in the past.

The act usually sent a tingle down his spine and a clear message to his cock. Now Jaime just stood in stunned silence.

_ What has she done? _

Despite his curiosity, Jaime returned to his room that evening when his shift ended. When the bells tolled throughout the city in the middle of the night, Jaime knew that the kingdoms had a new king.


	13. Littlefinger II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Littlefinger continues plotting following Robert’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all those stateside! Stay safe and healthy!

“You’re sure of it?”

Littlefinger snorted at the question and raised a brow at Renly. “I’m well-versed in three things; coin, whores, and whispers. Ned Stark was foolish enough to think my brothel a safe place to speak. His son lays broken in a bed to the North, all because he witnessed the queen seeking her fourth bastard with her brother. It’s a curious thing really… such golden features. Not a single child with King Robert’s looks. Surely, you’ve seen his bastards in the city. Do you know a single babe with golden hair despite the mother?”

Renly’s brows furrowed at the question. Only a select few knew of the king’s illegitimate children. While Robert would never claim them, Littlefinger’s spies whispered of them. It seemed unlikely the king even knew them all himself, but the women he knew best were  _ provided _ for by the crown.

Littlefinger had not seen most of the bastards, but he knew a few. He observed the way the former king’s eyes lingered on some. Petyr noted the strong Baratheon features as had Jon Arryn.

Leaning forward and clasping his hands on the desk, Littlefinger raised a brow at Renly. “The crown should pass to a Baratheon; not a Lannister bastard. I’m curious Lord Renly, what type of king do you fancy your brother would make?”

At the mention of Stannis, Renly’s eyes narrowed. “If my brother was fit to sit on the throne, my brother would have named him Lord Regent over me. He made clear of it in the orders signed on his deathbed. I’m to act as Regent and Protector of the Realm until the heir comes of age. With no  _ rightful  _ heir to be found, I suppose I should make myself comfortable on the throne.”

Tilting his head in consideration, Littlefinger pushed Renly closer to the words he sought. “And when the people demand it is Joffrey’s time? When he comes of age? I don’t recall that piece of parchment delegitimizing him.”

Renly tapped his foot from the other side of the desk. He was the more charismatic of the remaining Baratheon brothers and Littlefinger imagined the people would take to him. With a smug smile, Renly sat back in his chair.

“I’ve called in bannermen loyal to me. They’ll help with the city’s defenses and keep me surrounded by those I trust most. Of course, I’ll need to take a wife and I’ve just the one. I’ll unite the Stormlands and the Reach. Lady Margaery Tyrell is quite a beauty, they say.”

Littlefinger smirked and nodded in agreement. Inwardly he swallowed a laugh as he appraised Renly.

_ I’m certain he would rather be swallowing swords than swinging one about in the yards. I imagine he intends to consummate his marriage with a Tyrell, but not Margaery. _

Renly continued as Littlefinger appraised the man. “Of course, I have fairly substantial evidence against Cersei’s bastards. With Ned Stark in the cells, I have the proof necessary.”

Again, Littlefinger nodded. “I fear you might need more than that. Perhaps Lady Stark can bring the boy here. She’ll wish to retrieve her husband from the cells after all. In a trial, the actual witness will prove more reliable than someone relaying secondhand information.”

Renly’s brows furrowed at the words. “Yes, you’ve the right of it. It will take time for the Reach to arrive with my betrothed should the lady accept my offer. That will afford Lady Stark time to travel here. I’ll ensure her husband goes free in exchange for his support in the matter. Robert did wish to see Ned released from the cells.”

Littlefinger saw his opportunity and spoke insistently from across the table. “I know Lady Catelyn well. We grew up together while I was a ward at Riverrun. Allow me to write to her on your behalf. She trusts me, and we want her to be supportive of your claim. If she finds out that it was your brother who falsely imprisoned Lord Stark, she may be unwilling to bring the boy.”

Nodding in agreement, Renly stood from his chair. “Very well. That affords me more time to amass additional evidence against the Lannisters.”

Renly moved from the room. As the door closed, Littlefinger reached for a parchment and quill. A smile tugged at his lips.

_ Cat, _

_ I have grave news from the capital. As you’ve likely heard, King Robert has died while on a hunt. A most curious thing really, his spear proved unsure as he swayed from the drink. That cupbearer, the Lannister boy, did his job rather too well, I fear. _

_ I don’t know what transpired between the queen and Lord Stark, but Ned finds himself in the dungeons. My sources tell me that he had words with the queen before Robert’s hunt. I myself did not witness it. I fear things do not look favorable for your lord husband. Lord Renly is Regent, but the Lannisters call for Lord Stark’s head. _

_ I’m so sorry, Cat. I’ll continue to do all that I can to aid Ned’s cause. Please do not reply by raven. I fear someone intercepting your missive. In truth, I risk my own life to send you this. Please, you did not hear this from me. _

_ Yours, _

_ Petyr _

A smirk spread across Littlefinger’s face as he sealed the missive. He would send the raven from his brothel rather than the Keep. With his words, it was likely the North would call their banners and march on the capital. A war between House Stark and House Lannister appeared inevitable. If all went according to plan, Ned Stark’s head would adorn the city walls in greeting.

Of course, there was one more piece to set in motion. Littlefinger reached into a box atop his desk. After Ned had been arrested, Littlefinger moved stealthily into the Tower of the Hand. Robert was off on his hunt and the castle had been quiet that morning. He found Lord Stark’s wax seal stamp bearing the Stark sigil.

Now as Littlefinger sat in his office, he appraised the stamp and smirked. Pulling out a fresh parchment and quill, Littlefinger began a new missive.

_ Lord Stannis, _

_ I pray this missive reaches you in time. Our king has been mortally wounded while on a hunt. The conditions under which he met his end are suspicious, but I suspect House Lannister is at the heart of it. My son was nearly killed by an assassin sent by House Lannister after he caught the Lannister twins abed with one another. _

_ My investigations in King’s Landing and my son’s discovery confirm that none of Queen Cersei’s children are of Robert’s seed. This would make you the rightful heir, but despite this, I believe that Lord Renly intends to take the crown. _

_ I will encourage Lord Renly to concede to you, but I fear it will not be well-received. I may need to flee the city. _

_ Lord Ned Stark _

Later that day, two missives flew out and Littlefinger awaited the chaos to follow. It was a moon turn before he could enjoy the fruits of his labor.

True to his word, Renly secured an alliance with the Reach. Olenna Tyrell and her host of bannermen delivered her granddaughter to the city. Just as Littlefinger expected, Ser Loras was at the front of the escort.

The looks exchanged between Loras and Renly were far too telling and it amused Littlefinger endlessly. For her part, Margaery seemed indifferent to it. If the young woman was anything like her grandmother, she was there for the crown; not the promise of love.

Moving through the Keep, Littlefinger entered the small council chambers. He was not surprised to find Olenna Tyrell barking orders at those assembled and giving Renly an earful. The wedding would take place in four days’ time, and Olenna was a woman possessed. She and Renly were intent on making a grand show of it to the kingdoms.

_ They prepare for this as they would a coronation. Where it concerns feasting, Renly certainly is a Baratheon. This is to be a most extravagant affair. _

“Lady Olenna, how lovely to see you. I do hope the crown is not expected to fund this event. As much as I wish to see our Lord Regent and his betrothed honored, the level of detail you call for would manage to deplete even the Iron Bank.”

Olenna rolled her eyes before speaking snidely in reply. “It would seem the crown is dependent on more than the Lannisters these days. We’ll handle this ourselves. Besides, I can only imagine how much of the crown’s purse is funded by your whorehouses. I’ll not have sullied coin funding my granddaughter’s day.”

A returning smirk stretched across Littlefinger’s face. Olenna stood to leave as the rest of the small council filed into the room. When a silent exchange passed between Renly and Olenna, Littlefinger smiled inwardly. It was clear that Renly shared the truth of Joffrey’s lineage. The Reach sought to ally with the Stormlands for the crown. Robert had chosen Renly, though he likely did not realize the consequences. War was on the horizon.

Olenna pushed through the doors and moved into the hallway. As the doors shut, Littlefinger could hear the Queen of Thorns chastising Ser Boros. “By the gods, Ser Boros! Stop munching. You’ll no sooner fit through the door to aid the king should such actions be warranted.”

Over the next few days, dignitaries began to make their way into the city. While the wedding would not be as grand as a royal wedding, it would be grand enough to hint at what was to come. As suspected, only a limited number of vassals from the Stormlands arrived. Most claimed an inability to travel on short notice, but they sent their regards. The truth however was known to Littlefinger.

Stannis was calling the banners. His spies to the south whispered in his ear of Stannis’ war to come. From what they heard, the Stormlands would march on the capital in a moon turn, demanding Stannis’ crown. Varys tried to offer warning in small council, but Renly dismissed it.

“I am lord at Storm’s End, and I am Lord Regent. They’ll answer my brother’s call only when my heart finds itself as still as Robert’s. My brother can enjoy his island in the sea. Better yet, perhaps he can go deal with the Targaryen girl in Essos.”

_ Hubris. Let it be his downfall. _

Littlefinger supplemented Renly’s claim with false affirmation of his own. “I hear rumors swirling over lineage, but nothing to question Renly’s position. Robert chose him for a reason. The Stormlands belong to Lord Renly.”

Of course, Renly had reason to be confident. He was lord of Storm’s End and Robert had favored him over Stannis. Further, Renly had the Reach. The West aside, House Tyrell was the second wealthiest in Westeros and had the next largest army.

Renly also had Ned Stark in the dungeons for when the time came to expose the truth of Joffrey’s lineage. Littlefigner considered his last conversation with Renly the day prior.

_ One Day Ago _

“Do you know why your brother placed Ned in the cells? It was my information that landed him there.” 

Renly sat behind his desk in the Keep and appraised Littlefinger. “Of course my brother told me. What of it?”

Littlefinger shrugged. “My spies tell me that House Stark did not disclose the children’s lineage in exchange for the Kingslayer’s silence about Lady Brienne. What if House Stark holds their tongue for fear of harm befalling the Tarth girl? You’ll find yourself headless for questioning King Joffrey’s lineage.”

The question amused Renly. A smirk tugged at his lips. “And why do you suppose that I have Ned in the cells? It is not simply for the truth of what his son saw. As you said, I need the boy for that anyway. I’ll make Lord Stark an offer. He brings me the North, and I’ll offer protection to Lord Selwyn’s mannish daughter who they seem to enjoy so much. She’s a bastard with no claim. What do I care? She swings a sword well enough. Perhaps I’ll even let her guard my back. She wanted to serve me at Storm’s End just last year. She can serve me as her king instead. Once my brother is put in his place, I’ll have the Stormlands, the Reach, and the North at my back to remove House Lannister.”

_ I aimed for a war between House Lannister and House Stark. It seems that I’ll incite infighting within House Baratheon as well. Let them fight for the top of the ladder now. When they all fall and none remain, I’ll climb the rungs. I’ll have Catelyn at my side. _


	14. Brienne IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne attends Renly's wedding in King's Landing.

The sea air rushed through Brienne’s hair as the ship approached the port. It was the day of Renly’s wedding to Lady Margaery, and Brienne had been sent to represent House Tarth. Her father never ventured onto the mainland, nor did he have the desire to so openly bend before King Joffrey.

Rumors had made their way to Tarth of Joffrey’s true lineage, and Stannis called the banners to move against the crown. War would find its way to King’s Landing in a moon turn once the army of the Stormlands assembled.

As always, Selwyn chose to remain neutral. He never cared for Stannis, but Selwyn had little desire to involve his island in yet another war between House Baratheon and the crown. When the invitation to attend Renly’s wedding arrived, Brienne offered to go in her father’s stead. While Brienne knew it was risky given the Lannister twins' secret swirling in the Stormlands, she felt compelled to attend.

Oddly, it was not for Renly that Brienne was drawn to the capital. Since her return from Winterfell, Brienne’s dreams had been consumed by green eyes. It unnerved Brienne how quickly her maidenly heart cast aside Renly in favor of Ser Jaime, but she concluded it was little more than a reaction to Renly’s betrayal.

Selwyn and Septa Roelle thought Lord Renly’s wedding an opportunity for Brienne to meet young lords in need of a wife. With Robert dead, Selwyn felt less wary of a brief appearance at court. In their acquaintance with Lord Renly, the youngest Baratheon had not demonstrated the same thirst for the destruction of House Targaryen as Robert had. 

Still, Brienne was only to remain in the city for the wedding feast and then return the following day. Another condition to Brienne’s attendance was that she wear a dress and conduct herself as a noblewoman.

Septa Roelle had been recalled from retirement to try once more at making Brienne a proper lady. When Brienne returned from Winterfell, Selwyn shared his decision on Brienne’s future.

_ ‘I know we agreed to no more betrothals, but your behavior nearly saw you raped and killed! What were you thinking? Further, you brought unnecessary attention on yourself from King Robert.Tarth needs you to rule someday. It is your duty, Brienne. This is as much for your safety as it is Tarth’s future. I’ve recalled Septa Roelle to help us prepare you for potential matches. No more swordplay.’ _

And so Brienne had tried. The renewed time with Roelle proved as emotionally taxing as the ball many years ago. Septa Roelle never missed an opportunity to condemn Brienne’s mannish behaviors and remind Brienne of her ugliness. Even Brienne’s final dress fitting served as an opportunity for Roelle to voice her disgust at Brienne’s appearance.

_ ‘You better not ruin this dress, girl. Your father spent nearly all of Tarth’s coin to ensure enough fabric to cover all this awful freckled skin. I do hope there will be some blind lords in attendance in need of land.’  _

On the ship, Brienne was accompanied by two guards. Both men would stay in the city after paying their respect to Lord Renly. Only nobility could be accommodated in the Keep given how many dignitaries had arrived from the Reach.

When Brienne entered the courtyard of the Red Keep, her mouth gaped in awe. She had seen the Keep from afar many times, but seeing it so close gave an entirely different feeling. If only for a moment, the sheer size of it made her feel normal in stature.

Attendants guided her party inside and walked Brienne towards the guest wing. Along the way, Brienne noted several Gold Cloaks receiving orders from Ser Barristan Selmy. The aged knight was still fit and commanding. Brienne had lamented not meeting him at Winterfell. Her father always spoke fondly of the Stormlands’ knight.

At Ser Barristan’s back, Brienne noted two Kingsguard; one of whom was a very bored looking Jaime. At the sight of him, Brienne bit back a smile. Speaking with him at the tourney had been an unexpected, but much welcome, surprise. She recalled the note she found wrapped about the dagger when she returned to Tarth from Winterfell. ‘Don’t grimace when you lunge. Keep your stance open. Forget Renly fucking Baratheon.’

It was that note which fueled Brienne’s training and encouraged her to enter the tourney over a moon turn ago. The tourney was her chance to stand before Renly and prove her worth; a worth that he, like everyone else, failed to see. 

Brienne wanted to show Renly that she was more than an ugly woman. She could have purpose in this world; even if a sword rather than wife and mother. 

When Brienne’s eyes met Jaime’s from across the Keep, he did a double take. A smirk tugged at his lips and he jogged over.

“Lady Brienne. What are you doing here?”

Brienne was not a witty woman. She fumbled through conversation with everyone who approached her. For some reason, she felt more comfortable with Jaime. Words came easier and she felt less bumbling. Recalling Jaime’s rescue of her from Ser Meryn, Brienne used his own words against him.

“I am of House Tarth, Ser Jaime. Perhaps you forget where that is, so allow me to remind you. That is a prominent vassal House of the Stormlands. Might you recall where our Lord Regent is from? I’ll give you a hint… it’s the same kingdom as the dolt you struck in the throat.”

Jaime guffawed and a childlike mirth shone in his yes. He nodded approvingly, but then he feigned at seriousness.

“Well I can see that you did not take my note to heart. I do recall encouraging you to forget our Lord fucking Regent.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and spoke in hushed tones. “Yes, well difficult to forget when a summons for this event makes its way to my father’s shores.”

Turning down a hallway, the staff directed Brienne into a small guest room which was surprisingly well-furnished. There was a bed at one end and a fireplace at the other. A small balcony overlooked the Blackwater and a cool breeze blew in from over it.

Of course, Brienne had only a bag with the awful dress crammed inside. She would leave on the morrow at midday per her father’s orders.

_ ‘Pay your respects and return home. I do not wish to make a scene of House Tarth’s presence when Stannis means to march on the crown. We’ll remain neutral and let this all sort itself out.’ _

Thanking the attendants, Brienne noted the Tarth guards and Ser Jaime lingering. With a sigh, she addressed the soldiers sent by her father. “Ser Edwin. Ser Brycon. Why don’t you get settled at the inn before returning to pay your respects?”

The men bowed and made a quick exit from the room. Brienne was surprised to see Jaime still leaning against the wall. “When do you leave?”

“On the morrow.” Brienne threw her bag onto the bed and glanced back at him.

At her answer, Jaime’s smile faded. He bit his lip and glanced away. Before she could think better of it, Brienne spoke in hushed tones. “I need to tell you something.”

Jaime’s brows rose at the words. From the look on her face, he seemed to think better of the open door at his back. Jaime shut the door and stepped further into the room; his eyes remained fixed on Brienne.

“We received a letter from Lord Stannis. He is calling the banners to march on the city.”

At the words, Jaime startled. “What? Why?”

Brienne could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. She didn’t know how Jaime would react to the information she brought. “It’s… partly why I came. I don’t know how, but Stannis seems to know, or at least question, a certain…  _ lineage _ .”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. Worrying he would think the rumors circulated by her lips, Brienne spoke urgently. “I refuted it as nonsense to my father when he read the missive, though… I don’t know if he believed me.”

Jaime only nodded slowly as he processed the information. With a heavy sigh, Jaime glanced away in contemplation. “It explains why most of the Stormlands vassals declined attendance.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I swore that I would not speak of it and I haven’t.”

“Yes, of course.” Jaime cleared his throat and shrugged. “No matter. The crown has the Reach to defend it. The Tyrell’s army is infinitely larger than anything Stannis could manage. Besides… the crown has my sword.”

Brienne’s eyes rolled as far back as they had dared travel before.

_ Ridiculous. There it is. His never-ending arrogance. _

A small smirk tugged at Jaime’s lip as he took a slow step forward. “Think about it… if you pledge for your beloved Lord Regent, and with me fighting for the king, we could beat all of the Stormlands ourselves.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Brienne’s lips. She considered something and looked to Jaime questioningly. 

“Wouldn’t the West defend the crown?”

Jaime hummed and appraised the room. “They would if they were not already defending it from the North and the Riverlands. Their armies are amassing and moving south. They demand Lord Stark be set free.” 

The only word to reach Tarth was that Lord Stark resigned as Hand. Whispers told of his imprisonment, but the stories seemed farfetched. At Jaime’s words, Brienne startled. 

“It’s true then? He is imprisoned? Why?”

Jaime sighed and shook his head. “I’ve not heard much of it. The day before a boar claimed his life, Robert had Ned arrested. We heard that Ned resigned as Hand; something about refusing to kill the Targaryen girl across the sea. I imagine the crown is keeping him for leverage. It seems something my sister or father would do, but I’m not certain why Renly hasn’t released Ned.”

A teasing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as his eyes roamed Brienne’s body. “It seems Lord Stark has a thing for protecting Targaryens.”

Before Brienne could reply, Jaime’s smile dropped. “I suppose I’ll see you at the feast later. I’m on guard duty for the  _ blessed _ event.”

Jaime moved towards the door and glanced back. A mischievous smile stretched across his face. “I do wonder which Tyrell will participate in the bedding tonight.”

As Jaime left the room, Brienne sat on the bed and riffled through her bag. She set out the dress and spare clothing that she packed from Tarth. At the bottom of the bag was her gold dragon from Jaime.  _ For luck _ .

Later that evening, Brienne steeled herself as she moved into the great hall. There were more people crammed into the space than Brienne thought possible. Making her way towards the Lord Regent’s table, Brienne observed Sansa sitting beside King Joffrey and the queen mother. Brienne paid her respect first to the king as she was instructed to do.

Joffrey sneered at Brienne’s poor attempt at a curtsey, but as Brienne glanced at Sansa, she only saw a sympathetic smile on the young girl’s face. Brienne felt worry bubble in her chest. It struck Brienne odd that Sansa was still in the capital given her father was imprisoned. Surely she had done no wrong and Renly would have sent her home.

Brienne’s eyes slowly moved towards the queen mother. Cersei cared little for Brienne’s presence and courtly formality. She shook her head in obvious disgust before looking away. With a final glance at Sansa, Brienne’s eyes sparkled with unspoken questions. The young girl appeared ready to break down and cry. Brienne wished she could console the young girl and secret her away from the city.

Moving down the table towards Lord Renly, Brienne confronted her past. Despite Renly’s harsh words, Brienne would gladly fight for him if needed. It was the second time in just over a moon turn that Brienne stood before him. She felt absurd in her dress and hoped to make a hasty retreat to her table before judgemental eyes could feast upon her.

At Brienne’s approach, Renly beamed. “Lady Brienne. How wonderful to see you again. I quite enjoy giving Ser Loras a hard time about his loss at the tourney.”

Brienne forced a smile and tried once more to curtsey. She cringed at how poorly it came off. “Hello, Lord Renly. Congratulations to you and Lady Margaery. You make a fine couple.”

With a warm smile, Margaery nodded at Brienne. “Thank you, Lady Brienne. Which House are you from? I fear that I was not here for the tourney to meet everyone.” Margaery scanned Brienne’s dress as though it might provide the answer.

“House Tarth, my lady. Just a small vassal. Nothing of great importance.”

Renly laughed lightly and patted Margaery’s hand. “It’s a lovely island. Perhaps we’ll visit sometime, sweetling.”

To Renly’s other side, Ser Loras rolled his eyes. His displeasure at the day’s events were apparent. Standing just behind the Lord Regent were two Kingsguard, one of whom was Ser Jaime.

Inclining his head between Loras and Renly, Jaime made a teasing face which forced Brienne to bite back a laugh. She retreated quickly to the back of the hall where she was seated with three lesser vassals from the Stormlands. The feast was loud with an abundance of food and drink. Brienne was eager for the evening to end so that she could remove the ridiculous dress in favor of her preferred breeches and tunic.

Not long into the revelry, the queen mother, King Joffrey, Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella, and Lady Sansa left the hall. It was clear that neither Cersei nor Joffrey had any desire to enjoy the festivities. They had played their role long enough to avoid unnecessary gossip at court, and now they would retire to their rooms for the evening.

As wedding attendees grew loose from drink, the dancing began. Brienne watched from afar as graceful ladies spun around the dancefloor with their husbands or available young lords. Looking at herself, Brienne cringed. The dress fashioned for her was a deep, blue velvet. It had silver stitching and embellishments at the bodice.

In an attempt to accentuate her lean body, the dress was fitted tightly throughout the arms, chest, and waist. There was a slight flare at the bottom, but it was not a bulky dress that most women wore at court. Septa Roelle said that such a skirt would only make her look even larger than she already was.

A shadow fell over Brienne and caught her attention. Glancing up, Brienne saw Jaime slide into the vacant seat at her side. The staff had likely assumed Brienne would bring a guest, but of course, she entered alone rather than on the arm of a young lord.

“This feast is awful. Almost as obnoxious as a Lannister wedding.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at Jaime’s presence. His eyes slowly scanned the hall and his expression betrayed his displeasure. Turning his head, Jaime raised a brow at Brienne. “A dress…”

An uncomfortable heat spread across Brienne’s face and chest. “My Septa made me wear it. Please don’t… just ignore it. I know it’s awful.”

Jaime snorted; his shoulders shaking with mirth. “A septa? Truly, Lady Brienne, you’re a bit old for that.”

_ Yes, well it would seem that I’m also a bit old to be unwed. _

“My father recalled her after I returned from Winterfell. I think this is their final effort to see me wed off, though I fail to understand how this monstrosity will help my plight...” Brienne mumbled more to herself than Jaime. Her tone was bitter as she glanced at her dress.

“Blue is a good color on you, my lady. Goes well with your eyes.”

The words caught Brienne by surprise. She stammered to refute it, but before she could reply, Jaime spoke over her bumbling words.

“Dance with me.”

Brienne’s head snapped to Jaime. Her brows knitted in confusion. “You’re on duty.”

“The Lord Regent is drunk and eye-fucking Ser Loras. Not even I can protect him from himself.”

A smirk tugged at Brienne’s lips, but then her face fell.

“I… would not make a good dance partner. Surely there are better options to…”

Jaime interrupted her and raised a challenging brow. “We’ve had many dances under the stars.” Standing abruptly, Jaime extended his hand and looked to Brienne expectantly. The room seemed infinitely smaller as Brienne felt a nervous energy course through her body.

Brienne looked uneasily at Jaime’s offered hand. “Dancing with me will only get you laughed at.”

With a snort, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and yanked her from her chair. The feeling of Jaime’s hand around hers was dizzying. He pulled her towards the dance floor and into the sea of couples spinning around them. 

Jaime’s white cloak billowed softly at his back and made Brienne feel as though she was in one of her childhood fairy tales. No one seemed to notice their arrival as he spun around and tugged Brienne close.

Brienne’s heart was hammering in her chest as they moved into position. That was the moment Brienne admitted it to herself. She was in love with Jaime. Anything she felt for Renly was little more than the childhood fantasies of a woman barely grown. The realization felt as clear as the ugliness of her face.

“My father once told me that lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.” Holding Brienne’s hand in his, Jaime led them in the dance. While no one on Tarth ever cared to dance with Brienne, she knew all the steps. Her free hand rested on the pauldron of his Kingsguard armor.

Huffing at the words, Brienne glanced around as though waiting for the japes to begin. “I am not a lion.”

Jaime hummed in consideration. The feast seemed to fade away as Brienne’s eyes moved slowly back to his. With a cool confidence that gave away nothing, Jaime shrugged slightly as they danced. “Mayhap you should be.”


	15. Jaime VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King's Landing prepares for war and Jaime had some startling revelations.

Jaime sat in Ser Barristan’s office two days following Renly’s wedding to Margaery Tyrell. He was lost in thought as the Lord Commander finished writing a missive at his desk. Thinking back on the wedding feast, a fond smile spread across Jaime’s face.

_Two days prior_

Jaime didn’t know what possessed him when he spoke the words to Brienne. _‘Mayhap you should be.’_

The confusion on Brienne’s face reflected the confusion Jaime felt at his own words. While he aimed to offer a coping mechanism by imparting the lesson learned from his House, Jaime felt a strange pull in his heart as he spoke the words. For a moment, he allowed his mind to picture Brienne as a Lannister. _His_ Lannister. He envisioned placing a crimson cloak around her shoulders and a brood of tall, blonde knights following at their heels. 

Shaking the thought from his head, Jaime glanced around the hall. Many were feeling their drinks and beginning to grow bold. Jaime and Brienne took two turns around the dancefloor before Jaime conceded that he needed to stand guard once more.

Jaime and Ser Meryn had been assigned to guard Renly’s back, while Ser Boros and Ser Mandon followed Joffrey about the Keep. 

Leaning into her ear, Jaime spoke quietly. “My shift ends in two hours. Meet me in the yards for a spar? This feast is dull.”

Brienne snorted at the words. Based on her facial expression, she felt much the same about the event. With a small nod, Brienne agreed.

“Will you wear the dress?” Jaime teased as their eyes met.

_It does bring out her eyes._

Brienne was unimpressed by his question. With a huff, she shook her head. “I think not, though I’m certain all this fabric would make for ample armor.”

It had caught Jaime off-guard to see Brienne in a dress during the feast. Strangely, the cut of the garment suited her. It _almost_ captured the very curves that Jaime’s traitorous brain had committed to memory.

Two hours later, Jaime met Brienne in the yards. Jaime had shed his Kingsguard armor and Brienne had traded in her dress for breeches and a tunic. 

Wary of who might see them in the yards, Jaime guided Brienne towards a secluded beach that ran along the Blackwater. He often trained there at night when he needed to escape watchful eyes or judgmental stares.

When Jaime practiced openly in the yards, he could practically feel the words hurtled at his back by onlookers. _Kingslayer. Oathbreaker._ While Tywin may have scoffed at the notion of caring for the regard of lesser Houses, Jaime hated the judgement that came from his slaying of Aerys. Despite his earlier words to Brienne, Jaime struggled to take his own advice. 

With Brienne, Jaime didn’t feel as though he was falsely judged; at least not since he told her the truth of Aerys. A newfound respect had replaced disdain in her eyes and Jaime cherished it. They sparred for some time along the beach. Her movements were improved from when they last trained together, but she still could not best him.

Each match enhanced her skills and Brienne’s movements grew more daring. As Jaime unleashed a torrent of blows, Brienne blocked them deftly. She moved back easily on her feet; her face the picture of concentration. Then Jaime saw the stone at her back.

Jutting up from the sand, a large rock was in the path of Brienne’s right foot as she moved backwards. Her heel was one more step from catching it, and unlike at Winterfell, Jaime found no amusement in the thought of Brienne falling. He tried to pull his last swing and warn her, but her feet proved too quick.

Brienne’s heel caught the edge of the rock. As she began to fall, Jaime dropped his sword and reached for her. His left hand cradled Brienne’s head and his right arm looped around her waist. Despite his effort, their shared momentum sent them crashing towards the ground.

Jaime held on tightly and tried to break her fall. Releasing her own sword, Brienne’s arms reached backwards to prepare for impact. They landed hard on the ground with Jaime atop Brienne.

“Are you alright!?” Jaime’s left hand was pinned under Brienne’s head and his right arm behind her back.

The fall hurt, but Jaime’s worry for Brienne was more pressing. She appeared startled, though unharmed. Brienne nodded in confirmation. “Yes, apologies. I didn’t mean to take you down with me.”

Jaime heard the reply, but he couldn’t stop staring. His eyes darted several times between her eyes and lips. Lips that once seemed too thick and wide now seemed the most kissable things in all the known world. Swallowing thickly, Jaime realized he needed to move off Brienne quickly before a sword of a different variety stabbed at her.

Pulling his left hand free from behind Brienne’s head, Jaime rolled to his back. His right arm was still pinned under Brienne as he looked to the sky and tried to steady his breathing.

_What the fuck is wrong with me tonight? I can’t have her. I’m a Kingsguard and she is far too pure for someone such as me._

Jaime felt the pressure leave his arm as Brienne sat upright. Pulling his arm back to his side, Jaime started up at the night sky. He tried to change the subject to something far safer than the thoughts swirling in his mind.

“Which star is your path home?”

The question startled Brienne. She glanced over her left shoulder to look at Jaime before lifting her head to the sky. Dutiful as ever, Brienne searched for the star in question. The night was clear though cool. When Brienne found the star she was looking for, she laid back down and pointed so that it was easier for Jaime to follow the line of her arm and finger.

“There. We call it the Evenstar. It’s the brightest in our sky and conveniently sits over Tarth.”

Jaime chuckled. “Gods. Is that how you all came up with the title.”

With a huff, Brienne shook her head. “I hardly know. My line goes back to the dawn of days. It’s just what they called themselves while kings in their own right.”

They spoke a while longer on all manner of topics. Jaime couldn’t suppress his curiosity over something that Brienne mentioned earlier that night. “So your father recalled your Septa? He means to marry you off?”

Brienne groaned in response. “Yes. I’ve tried to dissuade him more times than I care to count. It’s not for lack of effort that I fail at being a proper heir. Bringing in my awful Septa and trying to stuff me into womanly clothes won’t change any of it. I’m not… it doesn’t matter.”

Jaime’s head turned right. Appraising the side of Brienne’s face, Jaime spoke inquiringly. “Why is your Septa awful?”

At the question, Brienne began to stammer. “I didn’t mean… it’s not her fault. She’s only tried to prepare me for the world. She certainly wasn’t given much to work with.”

The response came out defensive and hurried. It struck Jaime as odd and he pushed the matter further. “What do you mean ‘prepare you for the world’?”

“What all Septas are meant to do with the woman they’re presented with. Make them… agreeable. Prepare them for marriage and womanly expectations. Mine was kind to not offer false hope though. She did a fine job with me. Better than most could have done.”

There was something in Brienne’s tone that unsettled Jaime. He tried a different approach. “Oh, I’m very curious. What did she tell you of men? I should like to know just how much I’ve been fucking it all up.”

Brienne chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t think she expects much of any Kingsgaurd or man of the Night’s Watch. She just… prepared me for the reactions of men that I would earn. It was helpful.”

“Such as?”

Brienne huffed in annoyance. “She prepared me that a man would marry me for my father’s lands and title, but he would never desire me. That any compliment I receive from a man is a lie to curry favor… my truth is in the mirror. All very practical and sound advice.”

A wave of anger rose in Jaime that he had to temper lest he swim to Tarth and run the Septa through with his sword. “She sounds like a proper cunt. I hope you introduce her to the dagger I gave you.”

Brienne only chuckled at the words. While Jaime was pleased to see her smile, he hated that she believed such filth. They spoke a while longer as they lay under the stars. It wasn’t until Jaime awoke in the middle of the night holding tightly to Brienne that he realized they had fallen asleep.

_Seven hells. My back will surely pay for this on the morrow._

Jaime gently shook Brienne awake and helped her to her feet. Both were in a daze as they staggered back towards the castle. With his hand in Brienne’s, Jaime tugged her forward as they both stumbled along the winding path leading to the Keep. The sun showed no signs of rising but based on the lack of sound emanating from the castle, the feast was long over.

Jaime escorted Brienne back to her room. She insisted it was unnecessary, but Jaime was a knight and felt it the proper thing to do. Grabbing Brienne’s hand as she slipped into her room, Jaime pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“Goodnight, Lady Brienne. Thank you for the dance in the hall… and under the stars.”

“Why are you smiling like a fool?” Barristan’s voice cut through the memory replaying in Jaime’s mind.

The question was like being thrown into the Shivering Sea. Jaime sat upright and shook his head. “Sorry.”

Barristan’s brows furrowed in question, but the Lord Commander only sighed and placed down the quill in his hand. “So? You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, I’ve heard rumors of the Stormlands being called by Lord Stannis. They intend to march against the crown.”

Barristan huffed a laugh before leaning back in his chair. The older knight’s hand dragged down his face as Barristan looked to the ceiling. “I’m quite aware. Lord Varys raised such concerns to our Lord Regent. Lord Renly seemed to think it nonsense, but my House has answered Stannis’ call.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “Well that makes things a bit awkward for you, I imagine.”

“And why would it? I wear a white cloak at my back just as you. The Kingsguard are knights without Houses. _You_ would do well to remember that.”

The message was clear. While they never spoke of Aerys’ death, it was evident from Barristan’s cutting remarks on the subject in both this and prior conversations that he, like many, assumed Jaime killed the king because his father was at the gates.

“And you? How did you hear of these rumors? By chance was it during your dance with a certain lady of the Stormlands while you were meant to be on duty?” The judgement in Barristan’s tone was painful to hear.

Panic coursed through Jaime at the thought of Cersei also having heard of the dance. “I was guarding the Lord Regent from his front; not his back. I could see him better from the dance floor.”

Barristan huffed and shook his head. “Ser Meryn seemed to think you were far from watchful while on the dancefloor.”

_Ah, Ser Meryn. How wonderful._

Jaime hummed and forced a false smile to his face. “I was _certainly_ more watchful of Lord Renly than Ser Meryn was while fucking a serving girl against a wall. For a man who needed to take a piss break, he certainly returned much faster than I had expected.”

The age of the serving girl had been questionable enough, but the concealed alcove that Jaime saw Ser Meryn dip into was nowhere near as hidden as the knight had hoped. From the rear of the hall, Jaime had a most unfortunate view.

Barristan scowled and sat forward. “I don’t know what the problem is between you and Ser Meryn, but the pair of you better fix it and conduct yourselves properly. I’ve little time to moderate your petty squabble when war is headed our way. A war stemming from _your_ accused indiscretions with the queen mother.”

For the first time in Jaime’s life, he felt genuine embarrassment at the thought of his illicit relationship with Cersei. Barristan let the words hang between them for a moment before leaning back and crossing his arms.

“We have a war to prepare for. If that is all, Ser Jaime…”

* * *

A moon turn later, the city prepared for war. Rumors of Stannis’ rebellion soon became a fact as bannermen marched towards the city. By Varys’ and Littlefinger’s reports, the enemy would be at the city gates within a fortnight. As Jaime’s guard duty ended, one of Cersei’s chambermaids approached.

“Ser Jaime, her Grace would speak with you in an hour’s time.”

_Her Grace? Has she declared herself queen now? We’re to have a war of two kings and a queen. Well… three kings, I suppose._

The war to the south was not the only war. House Stark was moving south and demanding their lord’s release. Rumors swirled of Ned’s son being named King in the North; a battlecry as their forces sought the return of their liege lord and Warden. 

At the crown’s behest, the West rode out to meet the united forces of the North and the Riverlands. Skirmishes were reported along the kingsroad, but no significant battles of yet.

Jaime nodded at the chambermaid in understanding and made his way towards the White Sword Tower. Along the way, Jaime grew more and more irritated by the summons.

_Come in an hour’s time. Like I’m some fucking servant. I’ll go when I please._

After removing his armor and cloak, Jaime immediately made his way towards Cersei’s chambers. In the past, he would have dutifully followed her instruction and waited the hour. Now, Jaime had little desire to play Cersei’s games. They had not fucked since Winterfell, and Jaime felt as though her claws were being pulled from his skin, one by one. He had not realized how freeing it was despite the pain of the initial distance being forced upon him.

As he approached Cersei’s door, Jaime heard something which made him take pause. Grunts and moans of passion wafted under the door. While muffled to most walking by without reason to stop, Jaime took pause as he stood outside the door.

Shock coursed through Jaime’s body. He stumbled back slowly and shook his head as though to clear the confusion from the onslaught of information. Realizing he was simply standing in the middle of the hall like a lackwit, Jaime looked around and spotted an alcove.

The hall was deserted, and Jaime made his way to the concealed location. He tried to lean against the wall nonchalantly in the event anyone was to wonder by, but Jaime’s mind was wild with the new information.

_I’ve only ever been faithful to her. How can she do this? How long has this been going on? How many men has she bedded?_

Some time passed before there were voices at the door. Jaime pressed his body back against the wall and into the alcove. He peered down the hallway and nearly fell over in shock when Lancel emerged. The younger Lannister looked properly fucked. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and his clothing sloppily thrown on.

Lancel walked down the hallway in the opposite direction from Jaime’s concealed location. Jaime contemplated if he should wait the full hour, or barge in and demand answers. Always a man driven by his heart, Jaime opted to barge in.

As Jaime pushed his way into the room without so much as a knock, Cersei whirled in her spot. She stood in a robe with a glass of wine in hand.

“Apologies, sweet sister. I came a bit earlier than you preferred. Glad I didn’t interrupt you and Lancel though.”

Without warning, Cersei chucked the glass of wine at Jaime. He dodged the cup and stormed at her. The sound of the cup clattering off the wall paled in comparison to the frantic beating of his heart. Before he could reach her, Cersei’s hand raised and prepared to strike. Jaime caught her wrist and pushed his body against hers.

The twins stood before one another with chests heaving and nostrils flaring. Unexpectedly, Cersei surged forward and pressed her lips to Jaime’s. Another day, another moon, another year, it would have been the start of a passionate fuck. With Robert dead, they could have taken their pleasure in each other several times over. All Jaime felt now was rage; not desire.

He shoved Cersei back and snarled at her. “I’m not your dog to do as you please.”

Cersei took a step back in shock. Then her chin began to quiver and her eyes watered. “This is your fault! I never wanted to fuck Lancel! You did this to us! If you had just pushed that stupid boy!”

Cersei’s fists balled and began slamming into Jaime’s chest. Before Jaime realized what was happening, Cersei was crumpling to the floor in tears. “He’s going to kill us. The children. Me. You.”

“What?” Jaime was perplexed by the entire situation. He crouched before Cersei and tilted up her chin. Tears streamed down her face as their eyes met. “Renly is keeping Ned in the dungeons to expose us. He knows. Bran survived and told everyone what he saw!”

Jaime paled at the words. Before he could muster a reply, Cersei grabbed at his cheeks. “I tried to stop it. I had Lancel kill Robert to save us. _All_ of us. I need you, Jaime. I need you to kill Renly. Kill Stannis. Get rid of them and then we can be together. You, me, and the children. Please… we’re all the matters. Just us.”

Jaime was stunned as he slunk to his knees. Despite what was going on between him and Cersei, he knew that he had to protect her and the children. He would do anything for them. His mind began to race as he tried to consider the best path forward.

Cersei’s hands were seemingly everywhere at once; his face, his chest, his breeches. Jaime felt Cersei’s dainty hand slide into his breeches. Her fingers stroked his cock and her lips found his once more. Decades of instinct took over, and for a moment, Jaime let it happen. 

Then he saw a pair of sapphire eyes. Jaime’s hand grabbed Cersei’s wrist and stilled the movement. He was surprised to find that his cock had not responded to Cersei’s touch. Any shock Jaime had felt at Lancel’s presence and Cersei’s information faded away. Instead, he was stunned at the revelation which had pushed to the forefront of his mind. Turning his head away, Jaime admitted it to himself. 

_I love Brienne._


	16. Bran III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran is now leading at Winterfell with the North and Riverlands fighting to the south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the next chapter (Jaime POV) today once I can edit it.

A wave of pain rolled through Bran’s body as he forced himself to his feet. He cried out in agony and gripped Hodor’s arm. At his side, Rickon cheered wildly as though Bran won his first tourney. 

“You’re doing it, Bran! You’re standing!” 

Bran wanted to weep. The pain was overwhelming, but the victory was sweet. For weeks Bran tried to convince his legs to move. For weeks they ignored his pleas. It occurred to Bran how much he once took for granted in the way his limbs moved with little encouragement or second thought. Now, it took full concentration and determination to see the act done. Something as simple as standing was a victory where it was once an afterthought. 

Glancing to his brother, Bran winced and nodded in thanks. The desire to stand was entirely of his own, but need was that of a young lord. Bran would be presiding over petitioners today and he did not want to appear weak in mind or body. 

I just need to stand firm and strong. My body can collapse into the chair when the effort is done, but I must do this one thing. I must show our vassals the strength and resiliency of House Stark.

“Hodor, I’m going to attempt a step. Just hold still.” 

With a simple smile, Hodor nodded and met Bran’s eyes. “Hodor.”

_ Alright. Come on foot. Just one step. Start with the toes and then the rest will follow.  _

Sliding his right foot along the wooden floor, Bran grimaced and clutched harder at Hodor’s arm. The added weight on his left leg was nearly enough to send Bran to the floor in a pile of useless flesh and bone. 

Halfway through his step, Bran faltered. His body began to shake and his legs crumpled beneath him. The massive arms of Hodor reached out and grabbed Bran under the armpits to keep him upright. Tears welled in Bran’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

Taking a deep breath, Bran closed his eyes and willed away the sorrow. He had to accept the progress for what it was. Progress. 

“That’s enough for now. Carry me downstairs, Hodor. I’ve a kingdom to rule in Robb’s absence.”

Nearly two moons ago, word had arrived from Littlefinger of his father’s imprisonment and Robb called the banners. He refused to await their mother’s return to take action against the crown. With Robb and his mother away, Bran was next in line. 

Hodor’s sturdy arms held Bran tightly against his chest. The massive man moved with ease through the Keep and carried Bran towards the Great Hall. The petitioners had not been allowed through the gates yet, but Bran didn’t want the vassals and people to see him carried into the hall. He wanted everyone to see him strong and capable. 

Upon arrival, Maester Luwin smiled and bowed his head. When the maester first realized that Bran was not paralyzed, he began his research. Maester Luwin looked into methods to encourage Bran’s mobility. To facilitate recovery, Bran was offered healing teas and salves for his body. 

“I stood, Maester Luwin!”

The kind eyes of the aged maester met Bran’s. “Excellent, my lord! I’ll apply some more ointment to the legs later and we’ll wrap them again.”

Bran nodded in agreement as Hodor deposited him into the chair. With a deep breath, Bran appraised the space. It still felt strange to find himself at the head of the table on the raised dais. It was a position that Bran never expected to find himself in. 

Reaching into his pocket, Bran pulled out the latest missive from Brienne. He had been thrilled that Brienne made good on their agreement to write to one another. As much as Bran missed his sister, he missed Brienne just as much. 

They had been sending missives back and forth for weeks. Brienne had been incredibly supportive when she learned of Bran’s fall. They spoke carefully and in riddles about the incident so as not to rouse suspicions if the wrong person found themselves in possession of the letters.

Smiling to himself, Bran reread Brienne’s latest missive.

_ Bran, _

_ I’m so proud of you for taking on the role of lord in your brother’s absence. I know you’ll be just and thoughtful in the role, and I know your parents would be so proud of you. I just returned from King’s Landing again. Unlike the last time, it was not to participate in a tourney. _

_ I attended Lord Regent Renly’s wedding to Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. They make a fine couple and I’m happy for them. While I was there, I saw Sansa. I’m worried for her. She looks physically well and unharmed, but it is her happiness that I worry over. I can’t imagine she is being treated kindly by the crown. _

_ Ser Jaime has tried to look after her when he can, but of late, he has been placed on guard duty for Lord Renly. King Joffrey has preferred guards in the Hound, Ser Meryn, and Ser Mandon. I don’t trust Ser Meryn given my own experience with the man. He sullied the title of knight and I would just as soon run him through with my sword were I certain that I could get away with it. _

_ I’m so sorry, but I’ve not heard much of your father’s well-being in the cells. The only person I spent much time with at Lord Renly’s wedding was Ser Jaime. As you know, he and your father are not exactly close.  _

_ I’ve been able to continue my training on nights that Ser Endrew works late at the Keep. Of course, my father and septa don’t know. If they did, I’m certain they would station a guard outside my door.  _

_ My father insists that I behave properly when he next finds a match for me. I fear he may spend the rest of his days looking. His best chance was to marry me off while I was young. Time only worsens my appearance.  _

_ They forced me into a dress for Lord Rendly’s wedding and it was awful. I tried to avoid the crowd and remain in my seat, but even while seated, I heard the japes from the nearby tables. I thought myself strong, but in the moment, I felt rather weak. I was quite lucky that Ser Jaime distracted me from it all. _

_ I tell you this to make you feel less alone. When you preside over court at Winterfell, you might hear whispers. Just remember that you will walk again. Anyone who mocks you now will feel your wrath when you stand before them, tall and strong.  _

_ In the event one or two dolts make a ridiculous comment, just picture them dressed as a court fool in their smallclothes. And don’t forget that exercise that I told you about! Ser Goodwin used to have me repeat the movements to strengthen my legs while I trained. It hurts, but it works. _

_ I hope to see you again someday. I pray to the seven for the safe return of your kin.  _

_ Brienne  _

Bran smiled as he folded the letter back up and placed it in his pocket. In his first appearance before the people, Bran had heard whispers. Two petitioners spoke in hushed tones between requests. 

_ ‘If they kill Lord Stark, and the young wolf dies, how will this one protect us?’ _

The words had not been cruel as those Brienne often heard, but they struck Bran nonetheless. It was a fair concern of course. Bran was young and crippled. His legs were an unproven, mangled mess. 

While Bran had not had Brienne’s missive in his pocket at the time, he thought of it now. The thought of the two petitioners dressed as court fools and in their smallclothes brough Bran endless amusement. He began to chuckle out loud at the very thought.

“Is something wrong, my lord?” Maester Luwin cast a curious look at Bran as he moved beside him at the table. 

“Nothing. I was just thinking about Lady Brienne’s latest letter.”

The maester huffed a laugh and raised a knowing brow. “I’m glad the pair of you enjoy writing to one another, but just remember your lessons. Lady Brienne can be a bit… untraditional. Her father seems to afford her leniency that most noblewomen would never receive. I’m not certain if she is offering you advice, but always recall the example your father set in how to rule.”

Bran grumbled at Maester Luwin’s side. “Lady Brienne may be allowed to train, but she is very proper and honorable. I like her.”

Maester Luwin nodded in agreement. “That she is. I only mean to say that the North expects certain things of their lord. Your father led by example and you must recall those lessons now as you lead the North in your brother’s absence. Lady Brienne is unfamiliar with how Lord Stark expects his House to be run. If she is giving you advice on ruling, I only remind you of that.”

“Well she isn’t. She is only being encouraging. She has been taught to rule too. When her fathers dies, she is his last living heir. We spoke about it. She is expected to become Evenstar after him. Her father sounds very similar to mine.”

The maester’s warm hand came to Bran’s arm. “And you’ll both do well in roles of leadership. You’re kind and honorable people. You sympathize with others. Now, lets hear the people. Chin up, eyes forward, and ears listening.” 

Bran snorted and shook his head. With a nod to the guard at the back, the petitioners began to file into the hall. When the room was full, Bran placed his palms on the edge of the table. He took a deep breath and steeled his features as he summoned every bith of strength and concentration. 

When he stood, Bran could feel the slight tremor at his legs. Maester Luwin’s eyes bored into the side of Bran’s face. Without looking, Bran knew the maester was smiling at him.

“In the absence of Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Robb Stark, the King in the North, I, Lord Brandon Stark of Winterfell, will hear your requests and preside over your quarrels. I’ll take the first petitioner now.”

The day was a blur with a never ending stream of petitioners entering the hall. When at last the line of petitioners ended, Bran sagged into the chair and sighed. He understood the importance of hearing the people, but it was not a pleasant task. 

Hodor carried Bran back to his chambers while Summer followed closely. Osha sat in a chair that had been placed by the bed. The Wilding had become a friend to Bran after the rest of her group was killed by Theon and Robb. The pair had been hunting in the woods when one of the Wildlings attacked Theon. The decision proved poor as Theon and Robb made quick work of the men. Osha tried to flee, but she was captured and returned to Winterfell.

The friendship was unusual, but Bran enjoyed hearing tales from beyond the Wall. He tried to imagine Jon dealing with the animals and groups described by Osha in her tales. The thought of Jon defending the kingdoms as he lay in bed gave Bran a sense of comfort. Sleep found Bran early that evening with only half his supper consumed. 

As Bran slept, he flew. He flew high above the kingdoms and saw glimpses of what was going on. Everything was blurry, and the dreams lacked context. He heard voices and saw flashing images, but nothing he could hold onto and consider in periods of wakefulness. 

Then something was shaking Bran. His flight was interrupted and Bran’s eyes fluttered open. Bran looked up and saw Osha staring down at him. 

“Come on little lord! We’ve got to go now.”

_ Go? Go where? Why? _

“Quickly now. Osha will take you, Hodor, and Rickon to the tunnels.” Maester Luwin’s voice drew Bran’s attention to the foot of the bed. 

Bran’s brows furrowed in confusion. The light in the room was limited, but there was a hit of sunrise dancing on the horizon. 

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

Sorrow stretched across Luwin’s face. “The Ironborn are marching on us. They mean to lay siege to the castle.”

Bran startled and sat upright quickly. “Have they come for Theon? He’s not even here!”

“They’re led by Theon, my lord. We’ve been betrayed.”


	17. Jaime VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis' army arrives outside the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Bran POV)

A fortnight had passed since the explosive encounter with Cersei. At Jaime’s refusal of her, Cersei had raged, but Jaime lied quickly enough to temper her ire and provide himself an out.

_ ‘You just fucked, Lancel! I’ll always keep you and the children safe. Always. Right now, I need to think of a plan to deal with the Baratheon brothers. Wash Lancel’s fucking seed from between your legs and we’ll be together when this is done.’ _

The response appeased Cersei and left Jaime in a precarious position. He needed to figure out how to rid themselves of Stannis and Renly. Neither man held any emotional attachment in Jaime’s heart. They were threats to his sister and the children.

_ The children. Not my children. They’ve never been mine to claim. _

Jaime would find a way to deal with them honorably while keeping the children safe. It’s what Brienne would expect of him; honor. Since baring his soul to Brienne, Jaime didn’t want to be the Kingslayer anymore. He wanted to be the knight that he dreamed of being as a boy at the Rock. Brave, honorable, and just.

Fool that he was, Stannis marched against the crown. Jaime would find him on the battlefield and see it done. As for Renly, Jaime struggled more with the task.

On one hand, Jaime tried to convince himself that he was merely defending the innocent by killing Renly. Despite the sin that he and Cersei committed, the act was not a crime of the children. They were just as much victims of Jaime’s depraved relationship with his sister as the realm was at having false heirs lay claim.

On the other hand, Renly had reason to make his claim. He and Stannis were the rightful heirs in absence of a trueborn babe between Cersei and Robert. Currently, Renly was acting in defense of the very crown that his nephew-son lay claim to. Jaime was vexed where it concerned Renly.

_ Renly fucking Baratheon. Perhaps I’ll kill him to avenge the slight against Brienne! No… she would likely not appreciate that. Gods dammit.  _

The situation seemed laughable as Jaime stood guard outside Renly’s chambers while contemplating ways to  _ politely _ kill the man.

From down the hallway, voices caught Jaime’s attention. Loras Tyrell moved quickly through the Keep like a man possessed. He and Renly had been inseparable for the past moon turn. Since word arrived of Stannis’ rebellion, Loras and Renly spent countless hours going over battle plans and war strategy.

By all accounts, Stannis stood poised to have half his army attack from the sea, and the other half attack at the gates. The Reach and City Guard would be positioned accordingly. Between the might of the Reach, some 70,000 men, and roughly 2,000 Gold Cloaks to supplement them, the crown would have the advantage in numbers.

Of course, numbers were not all that mattered, and Jaime knew it better than most. Despite being outnumbered 2:1, the Stormlands were skilled soldiers. The bannermen of the Reach struck Jaime as less impressive than the Stormlands, North, and West. 

What the Reach lacked in skill they made up for in numbers. Certainly, there were impressive soldiers and commanders among them such as Lord Tarly, but on the whole, the Stormlands had the advantage.

Then a letter arrived for Jaime without a sigil stamped into the wax. It struck him odd, and Jaime was surprised that the letter had not been tampered with. During times of war or heightened suspicion, it was not uncommon for the crown to review letters. This letter however had been pushed under Jaime’s door in the White Sword Tower.

As Jaime stood outside Renly’s door, he recalled the letter as a small smile tugging at his lips.

_ Ser Jaime, _

_ Don’t worry. I was not so foolish as to send this to the Keep by raven. A trusted merchant from Tarth had business in the city, and his son is a Gold Cloak. _

_ The Stormlands are likely half in size to the Reach, but… I’ve seen Ser Loras fight. If he is their best, I’m fairly certain that I could beat them back myself. Below is a list of each House participating in the rebellion that we know of and their style of attack. _

_ I imagine some, such as House Estermont, are better suited to an attack by sea, while others, like House Swann, will be positioned at the gates. Fortunately for all of you, Tarth’s archers will not be joining the battle. Then you’d be dead. _

_ Please commit this to memory and then burn it. I know Ser Barristan and… Meryn… are from the Stormlands, but they have been long removed from the kingdom. _

_ …… _

__

What had followed was a succinct overview of the various fighting styles and warning of what to be careful of. The list was far too detailed for someone of eight-and-ten to write. Based on some of the insights, Jaime imagined that Lord Selwyn provided aid. For what reason, Jaime was not certain.

The best part of Brienne’s missive was something adhered to the bottom of the letter using wax. Below her signature was the gold dragon that Jaime had gifted her. She included the words ‘for luck’ just below it.

During war council, Ser Barristan had seemed surprised at how well Jaime presented defense options based on the known skill of each House. He eyed Jaime questioningly, but said little of it other than to better adjust plans.

As Loras approached, the smug knight inclined his head at Jaime and Ser Mandon. “I’ll be reviewing battle plans with Lord Renly for much of the night.”

_ Yes, battle plans indeed. Good luck with your siege, Loras. _

Jaime leaned against the castle wall and sighed. Knowing the truth of Loras’ plan for the evening, Jaime’s mind began to wander into dangerous territory. The image of Brienne’s stunning eyes and kissable lips pushed their way to the forefront of Jaime’s mind.

_ I wonder if she would let me kiss her? No. She’d stab me. Most unfortunate. _

The hours passed with thoughts of Brienne keeping Jaime warm and awake; though likely not alert. He leaned against the wall and considered Ser Mandon. Jaime never much trusted the man. His face was too expressionless to offer a window into the man’s mind. Mandon’s grey eyes were as dreary as his personality.

Even Ser Barristan seemed uncertain about the man. He was generally regarded as dangerous given his lack of personal connections or cares. “Ser Mandon, come now, tell me. You’re quite good with a spear. Have you enjoyed any lately like our Lord Regent and Ser Loras?”

At the words, Mandon slowly turned to face Jaime. His eyes were vacant, but judging by the clenching of his fists, he did not find Jaime half as amusing as Jaime found himself to be.

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “Calm down, Ser Mandon. I do believe that’s the most emotion you’ve shown in years. Shall I call for Pycelle?”

The lack of verbal response was nothing new. Unlike Ilyn Payne, Ser Mandon preferred silence rather than being forced into it. With a heavy sigh, Jaime looked back to the door and let his head rest against the stone wall at his back.

“I daresay that I hope to never take supper with you and Ser Ilyn.”

Jaime smirked at the thought. By comparison to Mandon and Ilyn, Brienne was a stunning conversationalist. The thought made Jaime chuckle which only drew a longsuffering sigh from his sworn brother.

Not a moment later, an ear-piercing scream came from the room before them. Jaime pushed off the wall and ran into the room.

_ Gods. Please let them be clothed. _

When Jaime rushed into the room, his eyes went wide. Renly lay crumpled on the floor with blood pooling below his body. He was naked from the waist up, but still in his breeches and boots. Loras knelt sobbing at the Lord Regent’s side. A deep, sorrowful moan pushed past Loras’ lips as tears streamed down his face.

Mirroring Renly, Loras was only in his breeches and boots. Jaime immediately searched the room as Ser Mandon grabbed Loras and yanked him away from Renly. The sight was confounding. There was no one in the room save the dead Lord Regent and the Knight of Flowers.

_ Gods. Did he? What the fuck? _

Staring at Mandon in shock, Jaime shook his head slowly to indicate there was no one else in the room. At the information Mandon pulled harder at Loras’ back. As Loras sobbed, Manson screamed at the sobbing knight.

“What did you do!?”

Loras clawed to get back to Renly. “A shadow! It was a shadow like Stannis!”

_ He’s gone mad. Seven hells. He killed his lover. _

As quickly as the shock entered Jaime’s body, it left. He needed to rouse the rest of the Kingsguard and ensure protection of the royal family.

“I’ll call the guards and rouse Ser Barristan.”

Without another word, Jaime ran into the hallway. As his feet moved quickly over the stone floor, Jaime called for the guards. A group of Gold Cloaks rounded the corner and Jaime directed them to aid Ser Mandon in Lord Renly’s chambers.

Moving towards the White Sword Tower, Jaime ran inside and towards Ser Barristan’s chambers. Jaime had covered significant ground in a short span of time. His chest heaved as he tried to compose himself. Kingsguard duty was typically dull affair, but that night had proven anything but.

With a loud knock on Barristan’s door, Jaime stood panting on the other side. Barristan was a light sleeper like Jaime. It was only a moment before urgent footsteps moved towards the door. One look at Jaime was enough for Barristan to quickly don his clothing as he requested an update.

“What happened?”

“Lord Renly is dead. Only Loras was in the room with him when we heard a scream. Renly looks to have taken a sword straight through the chest. The Gold Cloaks and Ser Mandon have detained Ser Loras.”

“Seven hells.” Barristan grumbled as he quickly strapped on his armor and sword belt. The man was ready in a moment’s notice and spry considering his age. Not awaiting instruction, Jaime moved down the row of chambers and roused the other off duty Kingsguard.

As the men sleepily stepped into the hallway, Ser Barristan began barking orders and assigning men to guard the royal family members. The Lord Commander’s hand came to Jaime’s arm and tugged him forward.

“Ser Jaime. With me.”

They moved quickly through the Keep as the castle came to life. When they returned to Renly’s room, Pycelle was already there and inspecting the corpse. “Something pierced straight through his chest; whether from the back or the front is unclear. The wound isn’t terribly wide. Perhaps the size of a spear?”

Jaime snorted. “Oh wonderful. So we know it was a stab wound. Astute as ever Grand Maester.”

Barristan was busy searching the room and glancing over the balcony. He was lost in his own mind as Jaime and Pycelle began to bicker.

“And where were you, Ser Jaime?”

Jaime snorted. “Where is a Kingsguard meant to stand when a King or Lord Regent is in his chambers? Was I meant to stand at his bedside and offer words of encouragement to him and Loras?”

A heavy sigh at Jaime’s side signaled Barristan’s return. “Thank you, Grand Maester. That will be enough. Please, have the body of our Lord Regent covered respectfully. Lets go, Ser Jaime. We’ve a prisoner to question.”

Moving towards the dungeons, it did not take long to hear Loras’ screams echoing throughout the bowels of the Keep. Weary looking Gold Cloaks stood outside heaving from exertion. At the approach of Jaime and Barristan, they stood upright.

“Lord Commander, the prisoner is inside. He put up quite the fight. Stabbed Ser Mandon and two other guards before we subdued him.”

Without a word, Barristan moved past them and mumbled his thanks for the information. The dim lighting of the cells required a torchlight to guide the way. Finding Loras proved easy enough. The chained knight was thrashing wildly at anything he could reach.

His screams were deafening. The sound of his voice was chilling as a mix of agony and rage coursed through the renowned knight from the Reach. At their approach, Loras dropped to his knees and sobbed harder.

“A shadow. A shadow. A shadow. I couldn’t stop it. It looked like Stannis.”

The desperate plea and state of Loras was pitiful. Jaime felt a hint of sympathy for the man, but it was apparent he had gone mad. Barristan sighed and shook his head.

“Ser Loras, a shadow cannot kill a man. Speak plainly. Ser Jaime checked the room immediately following Renly’s death. I checked when we returned to the room. There is no indication of anyone entering the room.”

Loras lunged forward, but the chains restrained him before he could reach the bars. “It wasn’t a fucking person! Are you hearing me!? It was a shadow! Some perverse magic.”

Barristan glanced over his shoulder at Jaime and shook his head. “I’ll speak with the king. Stannis’ army is upon us, and our Lord Regent is dead. Ser Loras is… unwell.”

Without another word, Barristan walked away from Loras’ cell. Jaime hesitated slightly and looked at Loras. He was a man broken as he sunk to his knees crying. Jaime felt badly for the man. It was likely he didn’t realize his crime in the moment, but it was clear he was grief-stricken over his actions now. 

Strangely, all Jaime wanted to do was get to Brienne. The thought was startling after so many years of only wanting to fall into Cersei’s arms. Shaking his head, Jaime followed Barristan from the cells.

Hours later and before the sun rose, the Stormlands attacked. It had been a long night at the Keep after Renly’s death. Not an hour after the castle settled, the bells signaled Stannis’ attack. Jaime stood shoulder to shoulder with Ser Barristan and his fellow Kingsguard. Only Ser Mandon had remained behind with the Hound to guard the king.

_ Well… I suppose Loras solved my issue of what to do about Renly. Now I only have Stannis to track down and kill. Should be easy enough. _

The archers stood poised atop the city battlements. At Barristan’s command, the first arrows found their way into the dark of night. War cries from men on both sides of the battle filled the city. As expected, Stannis positioned half his army from the sea, and half from land.

Unsurprisingly, the Stormlands forces were the superior army compared to the Reach. From what Jaime could see, they seemed to fell three men of the Reach for every man they lost. The Kingsguard continued to give command to the archers and soldiers below. Then Jaime saw the Stormlands approach the Mud Gates.

Barristan quickly directed the contingent facing the Blackwater towards the Mud Gates. To the West, Jaime saw Stannis’ land forces charge two of the gates; the King’s Gate and the Lion Gate. Torches outlined the enemy lines and battering rams crashed into the gates. Even from the distance, Jaime could hear the wood beginning to splinter.

The city’s trebuchets launched fiery barrels at Stannis’ fleet. While the effort slowed the ships’ progress, it did not deter the men aboard them. Boats continued to lower into the bay and soldiers poured into them. At Jaime’s side, Barristan grumbled.

“The Reach and the Gold Cloaks will be run through by the enemy. Lets get to the gates. It’s up to us.”

Barristan ordered the Kingsgaurd forward. They took with them the rest the foot soldiers standing atop the battlements. Moving swiftly towards the Mud Gate, Barristan unsheathed his sword and barked orders at the men holding the gate.

“Open them men! Don’t wait until the enemy is upon us at full strength! Meet them at the shore in their bloody boats.”

Jaime considered his Lord Commander. True to his word, Barristan would cut down any man opposing the crown; even House Selmy.

_ Could I fight the West? Could I run a sword through my friend, Addam, or my father? _

There wans’t much time to dwell on it as the gates opened before them. The Kingsguard stood shoulder to shoulder with weapons drawn and leading the way. They were instantly met by the enemy. Unlike the other Kingsguard, Jaime and Barristan fought with finesse. They moved as a team and cut through every man coming at them.

Whirling right and left, Jaime inwardly japed that he felled more Stormlanders than the whole of the Reach had. When Jaime spun right, Barristan moved left over him. When Jaime struck low, Barristan aimed high. They made quick word of the enemy and soon found themselves at the shoreline.

As Barristan ordered, they were soon greeting waterlogged Stormlanders with steel and curses. Then Jaime saw him. From down the shoreline, Stannis Baratheon led a small group of men along the shore. A vicious smile tugged at Jaime’s lips and he charged ahead. Swinging recklessly at anyone in his path, Jaime reminded himself that the man before him sought to expose the truth and see the children and Cersei killed.

The man before him would surely kill Brienne if he knew her secret too. Jaime couldn’t have any of that. He needed to keep his kin safe; the children and Cersei. He needed to keep his love safe; Brienne.

Below his armor and in a small coin purse around his neck, Jaime had Brienne’s gold dragon. With every step forward, the coin remained pressed firm against Jaime’s chest, reminding him of what he fought for. It was House Baratheon who wanted all Targaryens of Aerys’ line dead. Robert’s madness likely extended to his brothers. Of that much, Jaime was convinced.

Jaime hardly noticed Barristan at his side when his own eyes locked on Stannis. Raising the sword in challenge, Stannis charged at Jaime and their blades came together. The last living Baratheon was a decent fighter, but Jaime mused that Brienne was much better. In only ten moves, Jaime’s blade found its way through Stannis’ throat.

The fighting slowed at the sight of their fallen king. Men cried out their king’s death and began to lay down their weapons. No one fancied fighting for a ghost.

At Jaime’s side, Barristan patted his back firmly and nodded. “Good lad. Someone needs to let the gods damned Stormlanders at the King’s Gate know their lord has fallen.”

Ser Boros stood hunched over and panting at Jaime’s back. “I don’t think many remain. The West is here. Lord Tywin cut through them.”

Confusion passed between Jaime and Barristan as their eyes met. Jaime huffed in annoyance and shook his head. “My father never chooses a losing side. Perfect.”


	18. Brienne V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has a talk with her father after the siege.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to double post today. This is a shorter chapter and more of a catch up than movement in plot. I hope to have the next chapter up in a couple of hours.

Sitting in her father’s study, Brienne watched as Selwyn’s brows furrowed. A deep sigh pushed past his lips and he extended the missive towards Brienne. He raised a brow in question, but said nothing until Brienne digested the information.

_ Lady Brienne, _

_ Your coin proved most lucky indeed. Stannis conveniently stumbled into my blade during his siege of the city. Such a pity. Ser Barristan was quite amused at my extensive knowledge of the Stormlands Houses. I think he might have figured out your involvement in it. Apparently, Meryn had a proper fit about standing guard alone during the feast for all of two turns around the dancefloor. Miserable shit. _

_ Of course, my father conveniently showed up at the end of the battle… again. His timing is always impeccable. Now that the city’s savior has arrived, my father has named himself Hand of the King. The only good news is that he made some adjustments to the small council. My brother is here now, so the city has at least one likable, or rather less loathsome, Lannister in the Red Keep. _

_ Regardless, I know you are worried about Lady Sansa. With your beloved Renly dead, Lady Margaery finds herself without a husband, and her grandmother without power. Margaery is now betrothed to King Joffrey, which you’ll be pleased to know releases Lady Sansa from such obligation. _

_ My father of course finds the North far too valuable to simply let go. Lady Sansa is now betrothed to a child half her age; Prince Tommen. I suppose there will be no rushed wedding given the prince’s inability to produce heirs. Rather vexing to my father. I’ve done the best I can to protect her. I know you would demand no less. _

_ I’ll safeguard your coin for you. Now you’ll just need to enter the next tourney and win without cheating. Perhaps then I’ll give it back. _

_ Jaime _

Glancing at her father, Brienne could see the displeasure writ across his face. Unprompted, Selwyn voiced his complaint.

“You have no idea how fortunate you are that House Baratheon is no more, though despite the relief for your safety, I’m saddened by it. We’re a kingdom without a Lord Paramount; a Great House gone. I’m certain the crown will appoint someone who does not have our best interests at heart.”

Selwyn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He appraised Brienne and shook his head in dismay. “First the trip to Winterfell, then the tourney, and now this. You’ve befriended a Lannister! Not just any Lannister mind you, but the Kingslayer. When I helped you plan that bloody strategy against Stannis, you said it was for Renly. What are you not telling me?”

Brienne looked to her lap and shrugged. “I admitted that Ser Jaime aided me on the journey south. He has been kind to me.”

“Kind as Renly was? Do you plan on pledging your sword in service to him too?” Selwyn’s tone was sarcastic as he spoke. The year prior, Brienne requested to go to Storm’s End in service to Renly, but Selwyn denied her. It was one of many fights leading up to her visit to Winterfell.

“No, of course not. The advice  _ did _ help the crown though; it helped Lord Renly’s cause. That’s all that I intended to do and now Stannis is defeated. Did you not say that having Stannis on the throne was as dangerous; even more so, than King Robert?”

Selwyn groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “This ended up working to our advantage. There is very little risk now. Still, I do think it best that you keep off the mainland. Let us not tempt the gods by placing ourselves before the crown.”

Brienne nodded in understanding. The worry lines at her father’s face did not ease despite the topic having met its miserable end. Raising his head, Selwyn looked to her once more.

“I’ve only received one offer for a betrothal.” The expression on her father’s face reflected what was sure to be a poor bid. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair. “Lord Penrose lost his son, Ser Cortnay, in the battle at King’s Landing. Ser Cortnay had been castellan at Storm’s End, and he sided with Renly, but he was among the casualties. If Lord Penrose doesn’t try for another babe, his line will die.”

Brienne’s face contorted in disgust. “They call him  _ Old Penrose _ . He’s older than Ser Humfrey was!”

Selwyn grimaced and looked away. “I had thought… I don’t know. I thought the war may see situations such as this arise, though I had hoped for a better match to come about. I’ve not responded to Lord Penrose, nor do I plan to. This is just something we could keep in mind.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Frustration built in Brienne as her eyes darted around the study. “You promised after Ser Humfrey…”

“Gods! Not this again, Brienne. I told you that I had a change of heart. I need to see your future secured. What am I to do?”

“Take another wife! Have a babe that will make a match and continue your line. You should have seen the looks on their faces at Renly’s feast….” Brienne took a pause to collect herself. The judgmental stares from those at the surrounding tables flooded her mind. Were it not for Jaime’s rescue of her, Brienne feared she wouldn’t survive to the second course.

Taking a deep breath, Brienne met her father’s eyes. He seemed tired and resigned. Any hope that once danced in his eyes faded the day a rose flew at Brienne’s face. “I’ve done as you asked. I’ve listened to Septa Roelle. I’ve stopped practicing in the yards. I wore that awful dress in King’s Landing. I don’t know how to be the heir you need when no man can stomach looking at me for long enough to land anything other than a jape.”

Selwyn’s shoulders sagged. The older lord’s elbows leaned onto the table and he buried his face into his hands.

“This is not your failure, Brienne. That isn’t what I’m saying. I just need you to consider the options we receive. I’ll not force a match if it displeases you. Just… no more writing the capital. Please. I am trying to keep you safe. This goes well beyond the Tarth line.”

Brienne tapped the arm of the chair with her fingers. “Fine. I won’t write the capital, though in fairness, I only did one time. But… you opened my letters!”

Selwyn dropped his hands and gaped at Brienne. “It had the Lannister sigil! Why would the crown be writing to my daughter!?” 

A challenge laced Brienne’s tone as she stared at her father. Sliding the missive towards her father, Brienne crossed her arms and scowled. “A Lannister does not wear the crown. A Baratheon does. Clearly, this letter was not written by the king.”

Selwyn rolled his eyes and tapped the missive with his finger. “I’m no fool, Brienne. Stannis marched an army on that city for good reason. You truly think Renly didn’t question those children either. Here! This came before the siege.”

Producing a missive from his desk, Brienne’s brows furrowed as she appraised the crumpled parchment. The sigil of House Penrose was on the outside.

_ Lord Tarth, _

_ I write to you in secret under direction from Lord Renly. Rumors swirl as to the legitimacy of Robert’s children, and Lord Renly surmises that the rumors have reached your shores. Lord Stark sits in the dungeons with evidence to support these rumors. The children are born of the Kingslayer’s seed; not Robert’s. Renly was named by Robert as Lord Regent for a reason. Lord Renly is to sit on the throne after exposing the truth to all the kingdoms. _

_ As you know, Lord Renly wed Lady Margaery to ally the Reach and the Stormlands. The war to come is not between Stannis and the crown. It is between House Baratheon; Renly and Stannis. I met in secret with Stannis under orders from Lord Regent Renly. Lord Renly ordered his brother to stand down. Stannis will be awarded Storm’s End when the false king is removed from the throne. _

_ Lord Renly would ask that House Tarth answer his call when the time comes to join forces with the Reach, the Stormlands, and the North against the West. Some Houses have already declared for Stannis and they will be dealt with accordingly after Renly has his crown. We trust that you will declare for Lord Renly, after all… Lord Renly is willing to overlook certain information about your daughter. _

_ Yours. _

_ Ser Cortnay _

Brienne’s stomach dropped at the last words contained in the missive. While she did not know where the rumors began surrounding the true lineage of Robert’s claimed children, it was evident that false claims were being made. Lord Stark had no reason to believe the children were not Robert’s. Further, if Lady Stark changed her mind and informed her husband of what transpired at Winterfell, Lord Stark should know not to say anything of it. The revealed secret would put her in harm’s way.

“This is a lie, father. Lord Stark would not say such things without proof. What proof could he possibly have of it?”

Selwyn huffed in annoyance and shook his head. “Come now, Brienne. Who do those children look like? I’ve not seen them myself, but rumors tell of not a single Baratheon feature. Pure gold on their heads and features to match.”

“And do I look like  _ her _ ?”

They both knew the answer to her question. Everyone knew of Rhaella’s beauty. It was one thing that Brienne was both blessed and cursed to not inherit.

Putting up a defense hand, Selwyn tried to backpedal. “I did not intend to imply that a child  _ must  _ look like one parent or the other. But all  _ three _ , Brienne? Seems a bit odd, wouldn’t you say?”

Try as she might, there was only so much refuting of the truth that Brienne could muster. Such an effort only made things even more suspicious, and Brienne had no intention to tell her father the truth of Winterfell. Doing so would mean exposing her exchanged secrets with Jaime.

Offering a conciliatory nod, Brienne looked away quickly. “I suppose it matters not. All three Baratheon men are dead; only three Baratheon children remain.”

The fact reminded Brienne of the additional loss in the war; little Shireen. Word reached Tarth’s shores that following Stannis’ loss, the crown sent ships to Dragonstone to kill Lady Selyse and Lady Shireen. The effort was led by Ser Gregor Clegane and Brienne shuddered at the thought of what the man likely did to them.

“A true tragedy in this madness. Now a Great House is gone, and bastards rule their lands and conquered crown.” Selwyn grumbled the words and his face scrunched in distaste.

Brienne knew the truth of it. The crown wouldn’t want any trueborn heirs alive to contest the claim of Cersei’s children. Shireen would have been next in line. 

A heavy silence settled over the room as both Tarths considered Selwyn’s words. Selwyn tapped the desk with his knuckles before glancing at Brienne.

“I can’t lose you in such a manner. Please… stay away from that cursed city. No more correspondence with the Kingslayer. Yes, yes. You told me not to call him that, but this letter vexes me, Brienne! Please… just try to understand that I only mean to protect you. You may train in the yards but make time for Septa Roelle’s lessons.”

A spark of hope ignited in Brienne. She could endure all Roelle’s cruelties if she had a sword in hand. Leaning forward, Brienne’s eyes sparkled with hope. “Thank you. I’ll do as she says. I swear it.”

Selwyn snorted and raised a brow. “And tell Ser Endrew that the lighting hasn’t been that poor in the evening. I can see the pair of you clear as day out there.”

Brienne bit back a laugh and shrugged. “We’re both prone to sleepwalking. Horrible thing really.”

“Go on. Out with you. The day is warm, and the men need to be knocked to the dirt. Their egos have swelled with your temporary retirement from the yards.”

The instruction didn’t warrant a second telling. Brienne stood quickly from her seat and nodded. At Brienne’s eagerness, Selwyn chuckled. “Gods. I can’t believe you defeated Ser Loras. I should have liked to have witnessed it myself.”


	19. Jaime IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kingdoms find themselves under Joffrey's rule with Tywin as Hand and Cersei in Joffrey's ear. Jaime is shocked by how quickly things deteriorate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day (this and the prior Chapter - Brienne POV).

A moon turn passed after Stannis’ loss on the Blackwater. By the crown’s estimate, 10,000 Stormlanders died in the battle, leaving 20,000 bending the knee and seeking forgiveness of the crown. The Reach lost 18,000 of their 70,000. Jaime grumbled at his initial assessment of the Reach’s skill with a blade.

_ Human shields. That’s what they’re good for. _

Of course, it was Tywin who the crown credited for saving the city; not Jaime’s blade through Stannis’ neck. Cersei was pleased with Jaime’s effort, but he cared little to crawl between her sheets and celebrate. Fortunately, Cersei was distracted by Tywin’s arrival. The Lannister patriarch was rewarded for saving the city by having a Hand pin placed on his chest.

_ Reward or his own demand of Joffrey? _

After the battle, Barristan and Jaime learned that the West received word from Cersei of Stannis’ approach. The Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock withdrew 15,000 of the Lannister forces fighting in the North and urged them south in time for battle.

Most of the defeated Stormlands bannermen made their way home to a kingdom without a Lord Paramount. Of course, Tywin had a plan for that. He began shopping around Myrcella to the most powerful vassals in the Stormlands to ensure the kingdom’s loyalty.

Ravens flew back and forth, and Tywin quickly betrothed Myrcella to Ser Alyn Estermont. Tywin then named Ser Alyn’s grandfather, Ser Eldon Estermont, as temporary Lord Paramount of the Stormlands until Tommen came of age and if he ended up taking his rightful place at Storm’s End. Of course, Tywin had other plans for the boy. As Myrcella had not yet flowered, she would remain at the Keep until her wedding to the knight who was 12 years her senior. 

Cersei had raged at the match. She felt it an insult that Myrcella would be betrothed to a vassal in the Stormlands when Tommen now had a clear path to Storm’s End. Despite her complaint, Tywin cared little. He needed to bring the Stormlands to heel, and Tommen was far too young to rule. The Stormlands needed a leader who Tywin could control. Instead of Storm’s End, Tywin intended to grant Tommen lordship of Dragonstone just as Stannis had been afforded lordship there.

Like Targaryens before them, Dragonstone would serve as the seat for the next in line for the throne should Joffrey not father children. If Joffrey did, his eldest son would be given Dragonstone and Tommen would be placed at Storm’s End.

As for Joffrey, the king’s betrothal to Sansa was cast aside to unite the Reach and the West. Now, the boy king would marry Margaery Tyrell.The prospect gave Joffrey much pleasure. He had taken to tormenting Sansa Stark. The girl was timid and frightened which only served to fuel Joffrey’s cruelty. Jaime chastised Joffrey for it and came to Sansa’s aid when he could. The sight of Joffrey inflicting emotional wounds on Sansa reminded Jaime of Cersei torturing a young Tyrion.

On the occasions that Jaime was around to stop Joffrey’s verbal and, ordered, physical assault of the young Stark, Joffrey moped at his uncle for ‘ruining the fun’. The young king deemed Jaime’s intercessions an insult to the crown and he petitioned Ser Barristan to assign Jaime to other members of the royal family instead. 

With every passing day, Jaime wished he had deposited the spoiled squirt of seed into his hand or the sheets. Joffrey was a cruel ruler and on his way to making Aerys seem likable. 

When Joffrey’s betrothal to Margaery was deemed acceptable based on her ‘lack of consummation’ with Renly, Jaime wasn’t certain who was more excited; Joffrey or Sansa. The young Stark tried to hide her joy, but Jaime could see the relief in her eyes. He wished he could find a way to send her home, but he wondered what that would mean for her.

The North would not stop their campaign until their lord was returned to them. Rumors swirled of Robb Stark’s skill with a blade. The villagers said he rode his direwolf into battle and cut down the enemy with little effort. Jaime had laughed at the tales. He recalled the boy from Winterfell and believed he could fell Robb in less time than it would take to piss.

Still, Tywin exercised caution. Cersei had immediately demanded Ned’s head and claimed his loose tongue the reason for the false rumors that swirled in the Stormlands. Ever the political mind, Tywin saw value in Ned Stark. The North was easier to control with Ned alive and imprisoned. Though he planned to wed Tommen to Sansa to ensure an alliance between kingdoms, keeping Ned alive was important.

The announcement was another heartbreak for Sansa. While Tommen was not cruel like Joffrey, he was but a boy. Where Joffrey was two-and-ten, Tommen was a child of seven. Sansa would flower years before Tommen was capable of getting her with child; if she hadn’t already. Further, it held Sansa to King’s Landing. Tywin would have preferred marrying Tommen to Arya, but the young girl had not turned up despite the crown’s efforts to find her.

After sending the West’s bannermen back to the fighting in the North, Tywin brought an additional 2,000 Gold Cloak into the city to supplement those already serving. Many of the new Gold Cloaks were Stormlands soldiers who remained behind and bent the knee to the crown.

Jaime stood before the latest crop of Gold Cloaks and groaned in distaste.

_ The scraps stayed behind. Their best returned home. Gods. Send me Brienne and we’ll have a proper army. _

Walking the perimeter of the yards as Barristan gave the captain of the Gold Cloaks his orders, Jaime appraised the rows of men. In the back of the lines, a small group stood gossiping like hens. The words of a man with flaming red hair caught Jaime’s attention.

“I’m telling you, they put the cow in silks! Ser Clayton saw it for himself at Renly’s feast. Said it was the worst thing he’s ever seen.”

The men chuckled at the words, seemingly unaware of Jaime’s approach. Jaime stepped closer and appraised the man’s attire. He did not recognize the sigil at his breast, nor did he recognize the man’s face, though something seemed familiar about him. 

_ Wasn’t he at the tourney? I think I recall Brienne knocking him to his ass in the melee.  _

“Are all Stormlanders this ill-trained? You’re meant to be awaiting command from your captain; not passing false gossip around the yards like noblewomen at teatime.”

The men stiffened at Jaime’s approach. Several recognized Jaime immediately and their expressions reflected the disdain they felt for him. Stepping before the redheaded knight, Jaime tilted his head and appraised the man.

“And you… I can’t imagine you’re so bold as to critique anyone in attendance at Lord Renly’s feast. Those are noble dignitaries you’re disparaging. Not so wise.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “They said you were the only one to dance with  _ Brienne the Beauty _ . Was it a jape among the Kingsguard?”

Jaime bit back the growl threatening to burst past his lips. “How  _ unfortunate _ for me that you missed the feast. Where were you? Not invited, I take it?”

“My House was invited, but unlike House Tarth, we didn’t bend to Renly.”

Stepping indecently close, Jaime’s eyes narrowed. “So you didn’t bend to the rightful king. And by chance, which House might you be from?”  _ So that I know which to afford the same treatment that House Reyne received. _

“House Connington.”

_ Oh… this must be Ronnet. Lovely. He’s going to die now. _

With a vicious smirk, Jaime reached for the dragon in his tunic pocket just under his jerkin. He wished for it to be pressed firm against his palm when his fist introduced itself.

“Of course, House Connington. You must be Ronnet.”

The knight straightened to full height which was still well shorter than Jaime. “ _ Ser _ Ronnet Connington.”

A false laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. “That’s nice for you.”

Before awaiting Ronnet’s reply, Jaime’s fist smashed into the man’s nose. A loud crunch filled the air around them and the knight fell to the ground, clutching his face. Blood poured from the man’s nose and pooled on the dirt below him. With a loud cry, Ronnet cursed.

“What the fuck!? You broke my nose.”

Jaime crouched at the man’s side. “Pity. I suppose now you won’t be able to smell the roses.”

At Jaime’s words, Ronnet stilled. With a vicious smile, Jaime crouched down and spoke through gritted teeth. “Her name is Lady Brienne Tarth. You’ll call her by her name, or say nothing at all. If you insult her again, to anyone, I’ll gut you slowly. Let me be clear, I  _ always _ find out. House Lannister has ears everywhere.”

Standing upright, Jaime looked to the men. “House Tarth is one of your own. In the West, we don’t insult noblewomen of our Houses. Poor taste. Unless you wish to look like my new friend Ronnet there, keep your opinions of lady Brienne to yourself. Not that she needs my intervention. I imagine she could kill you all without breaking a sweat.”

Footsteps at Jaime’s back caught his attention. Ser Barristan called out and drew Jaime’s attention from the men. “Ser Jaime, the king has passed down new orders which I need to speak with him about. Please ensure the captain has everything he needs.”

Barristan’s eyes dropped to Ronnet who sat sobbing on the ground. “Do I want to know?”

Jaime feigned innocence and glanced down at the man. “This one’s a bit clumsy… and delicate. Fell into a rosebush.”

With a huff of annoyance, Barristan stomped away towards the castle. Jaime offered a false smile at the frightened recruits and moved back towards the front of the line. Taking a glance at the gold dragon in his hand, Jaime smiled and placed it back in his pocket.

As he neared the front of the line, Jaime spoke with the captain. They spoke only for a moment as Jaime ensured all was in place. With a sigh, Jaime looked out across the new crop of Gold Cloaks.

“Very well then. You can move out.”

The captain shook his head and stood firm. “We can’t. Ser Barristan was handed new orders, but he didn’t want us to move until he clarified instruction with the king.”

While an unusual situation, Jaime shrugged and thought little of it. Only a moment later, Ser Meryn and Ser Mandon moved quickly into the yards.

“We’ve been told to move now. No time for Ser Barristan’s questions.”

At the hasty command of Ser Meryn, the captain began divvying his men as ordered and they moved out towards the city.

_ What is going on? _

Jaime moved into the Keep and saw a frantic looking Barristan trying to find Lord Tywin. The castle staff only shrugged and indicated the Lord Hand hadn’t been seen since heading to the port with the newly appointed Master of Ships.

From around a side hallway, Tyrion came into view looking frazzled. “Tyrion!” Jaime moved quickly towards his brother. “What is going on?”

Tyrion looked around uneasily. The new Master of Laws had been summoned to the city to serve the crown given Tywin’s insistence that Tyrion was unfit to act as Castellan. Instead, Genna Frey was named Castellan at the Rock while Tywin served as Hand.

Grabbing Jaime by the arm, Tyrion guided his older brother towards an alcove. “Joffrey and Cersei, they’ve just…” Tyrion grimaced and looked around once more. “They’ve ordered all of Robert’s bastards killed in the city. Some just babes at their mother’s breast. And… they killed Lord Stark’s household staff.”

Jaime stepped backwards in horror. His eyes scanned the hall and landed on Barristan. When their eyes met, Jaime knew the very orders that Barristan was contesting. Disgust was in the older knight’s eyes before he stormed off towards the Tower of the Hand.

_ How did I ever think this woman my mirror image? My other half? How did I think what we had was true? _

Hours later, Tywin returned to the Red Keep in a rage. Joffrey had summoned all of the court and the remaining Kingsguard to the throne room. Standing at Barristan’s side, Jaime felt disgust pool in his gut as he looked to Joffrey. The miserable shit stood cockily at the throne with Cersei as his side.

“Bring the prisoner forward.” Joffrey gestured to someone in the back. It was then that Jaime realized they had dragged Ned Stark from the cells.

Glancing to Tywin, Jaime could see the barely concealed rage on his face. He needed Ned Stark alive for leverage, and surely the king had nothing in mind that would accommodate that need.

Jaime appraised Ned as he was unceremoniously shoved to the throne room floor at the base of the steps. The head of House Stark looked like a shell of his former self. He was weak, beaten, and filthy. Ned swayed slightly on his knees and glanced up at the king.

“Lord Stark, you stand accused of reason. You spread false rumors of my lineage. My Uncle Renly defended my crown and birthright, but was killed for it. My Uncle Stannis thought himself the rightful heir and had to be dealt with accordingly.”

Jaime watched as confusion clouded Ned’s face. The bewilderment there could not be faked, and honorable Ned Stark had not the wit nor political savvy to attempt it. Joffrey continued as he descended a few steps towards Ned.

“Because of your lies, my uncles are both dead. Because of your lies, one of my kingdoms dared to question my crown.”

Joffrey took more steps towards Ned and sneered at the man. “You told those lies, so that you could place a false queen on the throne. My father defeated House Targaryen for this crown, and you backed House Tarth’s false claim of it.”

Jaime felt his stomach drop at the words. Fear filled Ned’s eyes and he scanned the Kingsguard until his eyes settled on Jaime.

Hate shone brightly on Ned’s face, but he collected himself and looked to Joffrey. “I made no such lies about you, nor have I made any claims on behalf of another House. Your father won that…”

“I was there.” Littlefinger’s voice interrupted Ned’s denial. The tension was thick and Jaime felt as though he couldn’t breathe. His eyes darted towards the small council as Littlefinger stepped forward. He smirked at Ned and spoke loudly for all assembled to hear.

“You lied to your own wife while at my establishment. She is as much a victim as our rightful king. You told her that King Joffrey was not King Robert’s son. You told her that Brienne Tarth was next in line for the throne.”

The blood in Ned’s face drained as he looked at Littlefinger. The Master of Coin spoke just loud enough for Ned to hear. “I did warn you not to trust me.”

Joffrey smiled triumphantly and tilted his chin. “In two days time, Lord Stark’s head will sit atop the city gates as a reminder to all of what happens when you speak filth about the crown. Lord Selwyn Tarth and Lady Brienne Tarth will see their heads placed beside his. I’ll send our guards to arrest them and bring them here.”

“Let me do it.” Jaime looked at Joffrey. His words caught Joffrey’s and Cersei’s attention. “They insulted my sister… your queen mother. Let me bring them here to face justice as I brought Stannis to justice. Let me do it  _ for the crown _ .”

Joffrey glanced back at Cersei. She had a sly smile on her face and offered a near imperceptible nod to Joffrey.

“Very well, uncle. You will take guards to Tarth and see it done. No bastard will threaten to take my crown.”


	20. Jaime X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime needs help for his plan to work and he goes to the only person he thinks he can trust.

The entire room seemed to give way under Jaime’s feet. As Ned was hauled to his feet and dragged from the hall, Jaime could still feel his heart hammering in his chest. He had to get to Brienne and take here somewhere safe. She couldn’t stay in the Stormlands without the crown finding her.

Jaime wondered if it would be best to bring her east to Essos. If not there, perhaps somewhere at odds with the crown that had a large enough army.

_ North? Dorne? The Wall? _

No matter what, Jaime knew he couldn’t protect her alone. There was only one other person who Jaime could trust to do the right thing. As the room cleared out, Jaime walked shoulder to shoulder with Ser Barristan.

“I need to speak with you.”

The Lord Commander did not mask his disdain at the day’s events. Glancing at Jaime, he nodded stiffly. “I can only imagine.”

They walked in silence to Ser Barristan’s office in the Tower of the Hand. All Jaime could think about were blue eyes and a warm smile. Brienne had kept his secret and provided strategic aid to ensure Jaime’s success against her own kingdom. In exchange he had kept his word and unknowingly gifted Brienne his heart.

When they arrived at Barristan’s office, the Lord Commander shut the door behind them and sat down in a huff.

“I need your help.” Jaime’s words were desperate and did little to move the Lord Commander.

Barristan snorted and crossed his arms. Sarcasm laced his tone when he spoke. “I don’t recall you being forced into this order. You offered your sword freely for your nephew… apologies... king.”

“No it… I had to. Just…” Jaime huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, Jaime looked at Barristan. He feared the judgement in his Lord Commander’s eyes when he admitted his sins.

“Joffrey is not the rightful heir… nor Myrcella… nor Tommen. The rumors are true. I… they’re mine.”

Barristan’s eyes widened, but repulsion quickly replaced shock at the admission. Standing from his chair, Barristan pounded the desk with his finger. “It should be your head for this.”

“And I’ll offer it! But Myrcella and Tommen are innocents. They don’t deserve to die for my crimes.”

Barristan huffed and walked to the window. He shook his head and leaned against the stone frame.

“The other part… about Lady Brienne. It’s true.” Jaime’s words captured Barristan’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder and stared at Jaime. “She is Rhaella’s daughter.”

“Impossible! Now you speak of treason.” Barristan’s words were angry, but his body language did not match the tone. He hesitated and Jaime could see him calculating the dates.

“Queen Rhealla was pregnant in 279, was she not?”

Barristan’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “She had a stillborn. She birthed the babe dead at the Keep.”

“No. She birthed Brienne and they secreted her out. They covered the deception with a corpse.”

Barristan took slow steps towards Jaime. “How do you know this?”

“At Winterfell, I overheard a discussion between Bran Stark and Brienne Tarth. The boy heard his parents in their chambers worrying over Brienne’s arrival when we would be there. Bran, he… caught me and Cersei. In exchange for my silence about Brienne, I swore them to silence about the children.”

Barristan rubbed his face aggressively. “It doesn’t make sense. Pycelle would not have participated in a lie! He was…”

Barristan stopped speaking as his mind recalled it all. “They had a midwife.”

Sensing an opening, Jaime moved forward and supplied more information. “Selwyn and Rhaella knew each other. You know of Tarth’s connection to Aegon. They had an affair at the tourney at Storm’s End in 278. You’ve seen Brienne. Do you truly think they could have passed her off as Aerys’ daughter?”

Slumping into his chair, Barristan ran a weary hand over his face. He seemed to contemplate it all, but the aged knight began to shake his head. “It matters not. We’re sworn to the crown and Robert claimed Joffrey.”

Jaime grunted in irritation. Years of pent up resentment over his slaying of Aerys began to tumble from his lips. “Is an oath never worth breaking!? When does one vow supersede another? Aren’t we knights first and Kingsgaurd second?”

Barristan huffed and glared at Jaime. “Says the Kingslayer! You can’t break your oaths to suit your fancy. Why would I follow an oathbreaker twice over?”

“Rhaella has a living daughter in Westeros and she needs us. The rightful heir does not sit on the throne. That miserable shit and my vile sister just ordered babes killed in their mother’s arms today. We both know Rhaegar would have made a fine king; perhaps his half-sister would make a better queen.”

Barristan hesitated and gnawed on his lip. Jaime sighed and dropped his shoulders. He again asked Barristan the question that haunted his dreams. “If for the right reason, aren’t some vows worth breaking? Which is more important, Ser Barristan? Our oath as knights, or our oath to a king, regardless of his quality?”

The Lord Commander closed his eyes and dropped his head. A heavy silence hung over the room before Barristan balled his fast and slammed it on the table. “Gods dammit, Jaime! You’ve made a proper mess of things!” 

With a huff of annoyance, Barristan opened his eyes and met Jaime’s. “I’ll gather half a dozen loyal guards. Men whose quality I trust and who will follow my orders. We’ll take her someplace safe.”

Jaime sighed and nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

Barristan huffed a laugh and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never understood you. My generation was much easier to read. You… children…” With a heavy sigh, Barristan shook his head. “We’ll get Lord Stark on the way out. Pass him off as a bloody Gold Cloak.”

Jaime groaned in distaste. “Truly? I think he quite likes it down there. It’s dark and cold like his shit kingdom.”

Barristan raised an unimpressed brow, but Jaime could do little more than grumble. He knew it was the proper thing to do. It was apparent the Starks upheld their end of the agreement despite being completely idiotic about where the chose to discuss such dangerous truths. 

_ Why do we have to rescue Ned though? I’d rather take Loras with us. _

Later that day, Barristan joined Jaime in Lord Tywin’s office. “I hardly think this trip calls for two Kingsguard and half a dozen Gold Cloaks.”

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “You do recall the size of Lord Selwyn, correct? He makes the Mountain look like a babe. I actually question if we have enough.”

Tywin grumbled and shook his head. “Why the pair of you? Jaime, take Ser Mandon.”

“I am not taking that  _ thing _ with me. I sparred the Tarth girl up north. She’s quite good. If her father trained her, we’ll need Ser Barristan’s blade. I can’t handle the pair of them  _ and _ the whole of Tarth’s army. They won’t release them without a fight.”

Standing from his chair, Tywin rounded his desk and grumbled. “Your childish nephew should have held his tongue. Now there will be no controlling the North and we’re to poke at the bloody Stormlands again.”

Tywin appraised Jaime and nodded. “Go on then. Try not to sack the bloody island. Tarth is well-regarded in the Stormlands. I’m not certain any of the Houses will appreciate this.”

Turning on heel, Jaime and Barristan left the room and moved towards the courtyard to depart.

_ Hours Earlier _

Barristan picked five of the most trustworthy and honorable Gold Cloaks who had served in the city for years; all men from the Stormlands. He gave the men their orders and swore them to secrecy.

Two of the men relieved the current guards stationed outside the cells just before their shift ended. At the early change of guards, a third Gold Cloak entered the cells with the armor and cloak of the City Watch. Moments later, the man emerged with a concealed Ned Stark at his heels. Ned’s hair was shorn, and his beard given a quick shave. The guard brought Ned to Ser Barristan’s office where a fourth Gold Cloak stood waiting with Jaime and Barristan.

Taking a step before Ned, Barristan spoke quietly. “You will not speak a word until we tell you it is safe. Keep her eyes down and that helm on.”

Moments later, the two guards Barristan had stationed outside the cells returned after the true shift relieved them at the top of the hour. Studying the two, Barristan spoke in a clipped tone.

“You updated them?”

One of the men nodded. “Yes, Ser. We told the next shift that we just checked on the prisoner. They’ll not need to check until their shift ends in a few hours.”

“Good. All of you meet us in the courtyard. Ser Jaime and I will only be a moment after we confirm our departure with Lord Tywin.”

The Gold Cloaks were atop their horses with armor, helms, and cloaks. Once Jaime and Barristan were atop their horses, the group set out for the harbor. They needed to move quickly and put ample distance between themselves and King’s Landing before the next guard change.

Jaime believed that no one would suspect him and Barristan of aiding Ned’s escape. He only hoped that Barristan’s chosen five were as loyal as he claimed.

At the harbor, the men boarded the ship. It was a small ship captained by a crew of six. Jaime stood at the rails and glanced back at the Keep. He had effectively turned on his House through his actions. It hurt and Jaime had no desire to fight against them. Jaime only wanted to do what was right.

Joffrey was a monster and Cersei his puppeteer. Together, they would bring worse than fire and blood to Westeros. Their actions were not something Jaime could condone, and they threatened Brienne’s life.

Approaching at Jaime’s left, Barristan and Ned gripped the railing. The Stark patriarch looked frail and weary. He held the rail for purchase and steadied himself. Speaking in hushed tones, Jaime questioned Barristan.

“Six crew. I hope you’ve a plan for that.”

Barristan snorted. “Six crew from the Stormlands; the ship captained by my cousin. What do you think I had the fifth guard do while the other four secured Lord Stark?”

Jaime huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You’ve outmaneuvered my father, Varys, and Littlefinger. Perhaps you should be Hand.”

“I’ve been a knight and Kingsguard for longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve served paranoid Targaryens while you were still soiling a nappy. I learned a thing or two from distrustful sovereigns about emergency planning at the Red Keep.”

Jaime snorted at the words. “You could have left out the nappies bit, but thank you for that.”

“Why in the bloody hells is the Kingslayer with us?”

At Ned’s words, Barristan and Jaime looked to the broken man at the rail of the ship. Ned still had his helm on as instructed. Until they were at a safe distance from the city, he needed to remain concealed. A cutting smile stretched across Jaime’s face. 

“Are you not happy to see me, Lord Stark? Shall we return you to the Keep? I did think you’d find the cells more agreeable to the warmth of the southern sun, but Ser Barristan insisted otherwise.”

A shaky hand reached across Barristan for Jaime’s armor. Ned’s face contorted in rage, but Barristan pushed Ned’s arm away.

“Ser Jaime told me the truth of it.  _ All of it _ . Were it not for him, your head would be on a spike with House Tarth soon to follow. We have a Targaryen to guard, and you have a family to return to.”

Ned’s shoulders slumped at the words. “Why are you aiding me?”

Jaime rolled his eyes and groaned in distaste. He spoke sarcastically before looking out to the sea. “Or you could do Lady Catelyn a favor and fling yourself into the sea. I care little. Perhaps next time keep your mouth shut with Littlefinger around. For as honorable as you fancy yourself to be, you’re shit at being secretive. Though… is it truly  _ honorable _ to hide away a Queen’s daughter?”

“Honor? What do you know of honor, Kingslayer?” Ned grumbled at the rail. 

“Enough to guard Brienne better than you!” Jaime’s tone was cold and reflected the anger he felt at Ned for not doing more to protect Brienne.

There was no need to voice her lineage aloud, and in doing so Ned put her in harm’s way. Unable to hold his tongue, Ned stood to full height and glared at Jaime. 

“Will you guard her as well as you guarded Aerys?”

“Enough!” Barristan growled and stood between the men. “You’re alive because of Ser Jaime. Perhaps leave it at that.”

A heavy silence hung over the men as they looked to the horizon. The Stark patriarch was weak and struggling to keep his legs under him. Jaime saw the slight tremor of Ned’s limbs as his hands gripped the railing. The sea was choppy enough that the ship rocked and threatened to topple Ned overboard. The thought brought Jaime far too much amusement. 

A strained sigh pushed past Ned’s lips as resentment laced his tone. “Thank you,  _ Kingslayer _ .”

_ Kingslayer. No matter what I do, I’ll never have a first name to this man. I lost it when I lost my honor. Brienne thinks me honorable. Surely, I can’t be complete shit. _

The cool sea breeze stood in stark contrast to the heated words that had flown from their lips. A momentary silence settled over the men and for a moment, Jaime thought the matter settled.

“Why have you turned against your House now? Why kill Aerys for them, only to betray them for a different Targaryen?” Barristan’s voice was a whisper at Jaime’s side. It sounded more a passing thought than a question.

Jaime didn’t turn to the man, but instead stared into the horizon. “A sword fell off Aerys’ pointy little chair. I only mean to give it back.”

Ned growled and shook his head in reply. “You see the quality of the man you bring with us? You know why he did it. His father was at the gates.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Jaime’s lips and a bitter edge laced his tone. “Yes, it was what my father wanted, so I did it. Just like everything else he asked of me. Be his heir. Take a wife. Have children with the Lannister name. Tywin Lannister and his gods damned legacy. Coin and legacy.  _ Very _ important things. How perfect that I was chosen to stay in the bloody city at Aerys’ side.”

Ned’s body turned to face Jaime as Barristan continued to act as a physical barrier between them. “He didn’t think he’d be betrayed by the son of his former Hand and friend! It’s what you Lannisters do.”

Jaime pushed off the rail and barked at Ned from over Barristan’s shoulders. “I was a prisoner in that cursed Kingsguard. I thought it an honor given to me, but it was a punishment.”

Ned snorted and began to refute it, but Barristan cut him off. “It’s true. We tried to dissuade Aerys from naming Ser Jaime. He was a boy. There were ample knights capable of taking the role with double the experience. Ser Jaime was too young and untried.”

Jaime bristled at the words. It strung that one of his idols didn’t think him worthy, but Jaime knew the truth of his place on Aerys’ Kingsguard. Placing Jaime on the Kingsguard took away Tywin’s preferred heir and it ensured Tywin’s loyalty. The decision kept the West at heel, and it worked for much of Robert’s Rebellion. Jaime likely would have been killed if Tywin openly moved against Aerys. 

Ned was insistent at Barristan’s side. “Ser Arthur knighted him! Everyone knew of his skill. He was chosen to serve.”

The comment provoked the Lord Commander to stand to full height. Barristan held firm in his opinion as he stared at Ned.

“And rightly so! Ser Jaime is the best of his generation, but he was a boy left alone in the city to guard his king while his father laid siege. He shouldn’t have been there! Too inexperienced and not far enough removed from his House for such an important task. I didn’t understand it at the time he was named to the Kingsguard, but Aerys used Ser Jaime to keep control over Tywin. That is why he was given the role. It just so happened that Ser Jaime is one of the best with a sword, but were he not, it mattered little to Aerys. We only understood it  _ after _ .”

Ned chucked the helm off his head and narrowed his eyes at Barristan. “So, we should condone it because he was  _ young  _ and Aerys’ political prisoner? My sons are younger than the Kingslayer, and they would never plunge their sword into the back of the very man they are sworn to protect… even if I was at the gate.”

The words set off a sea of emotions in Jaime. “So if Robb was at Joffrey’s side and the miserable shit called for the destruction of the city and death to everyone in it, you think your  _ honorable _ boy wouldn’t do the same thing that I did?”

Ned snorted. “Destroy the city? Death to everyone in it? Seems a rather exaggerated way to describe two armies fighting.”

“Do you think wildfire gives a shit if you’re a soldier or citizen!? Everyone burns the same!”

At Jaime’s words, the men startled. Barristan’s brows furrowed and he eyed Jaime suspiciously. “Wildfire?”

Jaime was fuming and his chest heaved as he answered the question while staring at Ned. “Yes, wildfire! Perhaps if everyone concerned themselves with Aerys placing it throughout the entirety of the city rather than complaining about how young I was, something more could have been done to temper his worst impulses.”

Barristan grabbed Jaime by the armor and tugged him hard. “What  _ wildfire _ ?”

“Ask Varys. It’s all over the bloody city in the tunnels. Aerys ordered the entire damn city to burn. All of it.”

Jaime’s rage cooled as the images from that day clouded his vision. The sight of Rossart fleeing with his orders. The sound of Aerys’ maddened voice.

“I killed Rossart first after he was given the order. Then I killed Aerys when he kept screaming, ‘Burn them all. Burn them all.’. You’d have returned from the Trident to a pile of ash. I suppose that was the more  _ honorable _ thing to do. I’ll keep that in mind when the gods cast me into the Seven Hells to burn alongside Aerys.”

Jaime shrugged Barristan’s hand off his armor and turned back to stare out at the sea. To his left, both men stood in stunned silence. Barristan’s voice seemed as small as it ever had when he spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“No one asked and Ned declared his  _ opinion  _ as fact. It doesn’t matter. I would do it again. When this is done, you can give me that black cloak you feel I’ve earned well and true. I’m not sorry for it.”

When Jaime told Brienne the truth, it felt freeing. When Jaime told Barristan and Ned the truth, it felt final. The truth was out and now they would judge him truly. At first, Jaime had been upset that no one bothered to ask ‘why’. Over time, it felt like a figurative armor.

If no one knew the truth, they could not judge him fairly. Now that Ned and Barristan stood equipped with full context, they could pass final judgement. Jaime feared the judgement of a man like Barristan. Barristan was a man of vows and oaths. If he stood firm in his view of Kingsguard vows above all else, Jaime thought he may never recover from the verdict.

It was the opinion of the great knights like Barristan that Jaime feared most. He didn’t want their scorn and condemnation. All he ever wanted was to be a great knight like them. As resignation coursed through Jaime, he felt a warm hand to his neck.

“I was wrong. You were not too young for the Kingsguard. You were too pure for it. I fear what I might have done. Would I have stood there in sorrow as the flames consumed me? Why not, I suppose? I stood there today as Joffrey ordered babes killed in their cribs. The Kingsguard made you like me; like all of us to take the cloak and turn a blind eye to our kings’ cruelties. I’m sorry for it.”

Barristan’s words shocked Jaime. It felt like a weight lifted from his chest and he could breathe for the first time in 15 years. The burden of his truth and fear of condemnation were stripped from his body.

Glancing to Barristan with wide eyes, confusion laced Jaime’s tone. “I broke my oath.”

With a deep sigh, Barristan shook his head. “I never answered your question at the Keep. In truth, I was afraid to. I’ve never wanted to confront it. You asked if some vows are worth breaking if for the right reason? You asked which mattered more. Our oath as knights, or our oath to a king, regardless of his quality? Unfortunately, I’ve spent much of my life behaving in support of the latter. I didn’t want to think on it… I didn’t want to confront the failure of my oath as a knight to uphold my oath to shit kings. You broke your oath for the right reason as I should have done many times over the years. I fear that I’d still be standing beside Joffrey now were it not for you. They call me ‘Barristan the Bold’, though I don’t feel very bold.”

A small smile tugged at Barristan’s lips as he looked out to the sea. “Perhaps they should call you Jaime the Just.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “Well I don’t know how  _ just _ cuckolding a king is.”

Barristan grimaced at the thought. “No, lets stick with Jaime and Barristan then. I suppose we’ve each some things to atone for. Honestly, Jaime… you were meant to guard the Targaryens; not emulate them.”

To their left, Ned tapped the railing of the ship. His face looked pained as he stared at the wooden boards of the deck below his feet. “I ruined your life and you saved mine. Twice it would seem.”

Jaime huffed and glanced to Ned. “And they say I'm arrogant. I’ll have you know that I’m more than capable of ruining my own life. Don’t steal credit for my effort. Gods… just like my father.”

Ned sighed before leaning on the rails and burying his head in both hands. “What of my girls and household staff, Ser Barristan? Did Robert or Renly send them home after arresting me?”

_ Well, he might try to swim back to the Keep now. _

“I’m sorry, Lord Stark, but the crown had your staff killed earlier today. Lady Sansa is betrothed to Prince Tommen as a way to maintain control over the North. Lady Arya…”

Barristan glanced back at the Keep as it faded into the distance. With a subtle nod to a guard, Barristan watched the man move quickly below deck. Jaime’s brows furrowed at the exchange and he followed Barristan’s eyeline as the guard quickly returned with a cloaked child at his side.

The guard urged the child forward and nodded at Barristan. With a quick tug of the cloak, Barristan revealed what at first glance looked like a young boy, but who Jaime quickly realized was Arya Stark. 

The girl’s hair and clothing were in the style of a boy. As father and daughter looked at one another, Ned dropped to his knees and sobbed. Barristan offered a small smile as he watched the exchange.

“I found her after the battle with Stannis while I searched the tunnels for lingering threats. I’ve been hiding her away since then. When I sent one of the soldiers to the docks, I had him bring her to the boat.”

Jaime stared at Barristan in shock. It was nothing like Jaime would have expected the man to do. A man of his vows, Jaime assumed that Barristan would have begrudgingly brought Arya before the crown. 

When Barristan glanced at Jaime, he saw the question in Jaime’s eyes. “As I said, I heard your question earlier though I did not answer it. As a knight, I am sworn to protect the innocent. I’ve seen what Joffrey has done to Lady Sansa and they need her alive. I’ve seen his other cruelties; today the worst of them. Unlike you, I didn’t intercede when I should have. Perhaps I started atoning with this little one.”


	21. Jaime XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group from King's Landing arrives on Tarth. They have much to discuss and figure out.

Standing in the great hall at Evenfall, Jaime marveled at how light and airy the space was. Most castles were dreary, but Evenfall was filed with natural light that cascaded in through the floor to ceiling windows spaced closely throughout the hall. A refreshing sea breeze cut through the room and caressed Jaime’s hair.

_It’s a little island paradise._

Jaime stood to Barristan’s right as Ned and Arya stood to Barristan’s left. The journey to Tarth had taken two days, and the trip was relatively peaceful. After speaking of Aerys, Ned left Jaime alone. Any previously offered disdain-filled glances were non-existent, as was Ned’s use of the moniker ‘Kingslayer’. All Ned seemed to care about was holding Arya close and apologizing to her for all that had transpired.

A booming voice carried down the corridor outside the hall’s doors. The largest man that Jaime had ever seen stepped inside with an attendant at his heels. Selwyn Tarth had short blonde hair with a full beard to match. He was as broad as the Mountain with likely a few inches on the man.

_Gods. Brienne looks more Arya’s size in comparison._

Selwyn’s eyes went wide as he looked at Ned. The two lords moved quickly towards one another and embraced. It took everything in Jaime to withhold a laugh as Ned seemed to disappear into Selwyn’s massive frame.

“Ned! We’ve been hearing horrible news from the mainland. Thank the Seven you’re alive.”

Ned sighed and glanced back at Barristan and Jaime. “Yes, well not without help on that account. I’m afraid my presence on your island is evidence enough of the bind we’re in.”

As Selwyn looked at Ned’s side, he smiled warmly at Arya. “Let me guess… Lady Arya?”

It was the widest Jaime had ever seen the Stark girl smile. “I’m not a lady. My father lets me train with a sword now! I want to be like Brienne someday.” 

Selwyn guffawed and ruffled Arya’s hair. His eyes darted to her hip. “I see that you’re already well-armed! If you head to the yards, you might find Brienne and give her a proper match. The men’s asses grow weary from the beating they've taken.”

Lifting his head, Selwyn glanced at Barristan and Jaime. “Ser Barristan Selmy. I’ve not seen you in… gods… near twenty years.”

Barristan hummed and glanced at Jaime. “I would guess nine-and-ten years to be exact. The tourney at Storm’s End.”

At the remark, Selwyn looked curiously at the men before him. Before Selwyn could continue, Barristan spoke again. “This is Ser Jaime Lannister. I don’t believe you met him when you were last on the mainland.”

Selwyn eyed Jaime suspiciously. “Yes, I imagine not. I’ve heard _things_ of that one.”

Ned sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve much to discuss. Perhaps we could sit down and share some information with you. Is Brienne in the yards?”

Selwyn snorted and shook his head. “Gods help me if I know where that girl runs off to. No doubt she’s hiding from her septa.”

Their small group moved into Selwyn’s study and Ned shared everything that happened in the capital. At word of Brienne’s revealed secret, Selwyn paled. Jaime was hardly listening as he tried to peer over Selwyn’s shoulders and into the yards. The study had two large doors that opened towards the training yards and Jaime smiled as a familiar figure came into view.

Without a word, Jaime rose from his seat and stepped outside while Ned, Selwyn, and Barristan continued discussing matters in King’s Landing. Jaime’s smile grew wider with every step towards Brienne. Her back was to him as she struck the practice dummy against the post.

“Stop grimacing.”

At his words, Brienne’s movement stilled. She spun on her heels with wide eyes. “Ser Jaime.”

“Hello, princess.” Jaime’s tone was teasing as he stepped forward; his eyes fixed on Brienne. 

Brienne’s eyes sparkled and she began to voice the question swirling in her mind. “What are…”

Cutting herself off, Brienne’s eyes went impossibly wider. Voices at Jaime’s back signaled the arrival of the other men into the yards.

_Gods dammit. I can’t even get a moment alone with her._

Jaime glanced over his shoulder and saw the storm that was Selwyn Tarth. His eyes were locked on Brienne as he closed the space between them. “By the gods child! What were you thinking!?”

Before Selwyn could reach Brienne, Arya went running past. The young girl smiled widely at Brienne and ran by Jaime. “Brienne! Father let me have sword lessons, though we called them dance lessons.”

Bending down, Brienne extended her arms and pulled the young girl into an embrace. “You’re alright! I was so worried. Is Sansa here too?”

Little opportunity to explain presented itself before Selwyn was moving past Jaime and towards Brienne. “Did you hear me!? What were you thinking?”

Brienne’s eyes darted frantically to Jaime and back to her father. “I…” At a loss for words, Brienne released Arya and stood to full height. She took a cautious step backwards and began to stammer in reply.

Crowding into her space, Selwyn towered over his daughter. “You and Bran could have been killed! What were you thinking discussing things so openly! Now the crown demands our heads.”

Brienne paled and glanced at Jaime. It broke his heart to see the resignation in her eyes. She looked away and swallowed thickly as her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry, father. I’ll… I’ll go with them.”

Glancing to Ned and Barristan, Brienne spoke more confidently. “Please, Ser Barristan and Lord Stark, don’t take my father. I’ll admit to whatever you want, but don’t arrest him.”

“What? No, Brienne. These men are here to secret you away.” Selwyn drew Brienne’s attention back to him. The older lord sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face before he continued.

“You left out _quite_ a few details of your time at Winterfell. You said that Winterfell was uneventful. You said that the journey south was dull, but there was a minor altercation with the crown’s men. An altercation which you _also_ downplayed, and the guards had to tell me the truth of it. Now I come to learn the pair of you…” Selwyn’s eyes darted between Jaime and Brienne. “… have been safeguarding deadly secrets that have leaked out despite your silence.”

Jaime watched as Brienne grimaced and averted her eyes to the ground. With a sheepish shrug, she glanced at her father through her lashes. “I’m sorry. I thought that telling you the truth of it would only cause unnecessary worry.”

“ _Unnecessary_ !? I let you attend a tourney in the city _after_ your truth was discovered! A tourney mind you, that you were meant to _watch_ … not _win_.”

“It’s my fault.” Ned spoke wearily and stepped to Selwyn’s side. “Cat and I had no business speaking of her lineage aloud. Even in our own Keep, it wasn’t safe to discuss. Don’t blame Brienne for the loose tongues of my House.”

Selwyn only sighed and shook his head. The air left his lungs with a sharp exhale, and Jaime watched as Selwyn looked slowly to Brienne. “Go on, girl. Put those things back in the armory and come inside. Lets figure this out.”

Glancing to the side of the yard, Jaime noticed Brienne’s morningstar and a longbow on the ground. His head tilted in question and he appraised Brienne. “A third weapon?”

Following Jaime’s eyeline, Brienne shrugged. “Everyone on Tarth learns the bow first. We’re an island after all.”

Jaime moved quickly to Brienne’s side as she collected the weapons. “Let me help you. I’m quite keen to see the armory.”

Jaime raised a knowing brow and reached for the weapons. During the journey south from Winterfell, Brienne had shared that Ser Duncan’s shield was in the armory at Tarth. 

Brienne snorted at his eagerness. Taking the weapons in his arms, Jaime heard Barristan chuckle at his back. “Have you never seen an armory before Ser Jaime? Had I known you were so green, I’d have gladly offered your assistance to the squires at the Keep.”

Glancing back at Barristan, Jaime smirked. “I’ve never seen an armory hosting _Ser Duncan’s_ shield.”

The words caught Barristan by surprise. His eyes flitted between Jaime and Selwyn in question. “You have Ser Duncan’s shield _here_?” 

“Should I not possess the shield of my kin?” Selwyn’s tone was laced with confusion. The older lord’s eyes followed Barristan as the Lord Commander moved quickly towards Jaime. 

Barristan grabbed one of the weapons from Jaime’s arms and smiled at Brienne. “I’ll help. I’ve been around more armories than Ser Jaime. He’ll likely put these away in the improper place.”

Jaime smirked at the man’s contrived reason to join them at the armory. Like Jaime, Barristan had a deep regard for Ser Duncan. The two Kingsguard followed closely at Brienne’s heels as she moved towards the armory.

It was much smaller than the armory at the Rock and the Red Keep, but surprisingly well-equipped for an island the size of Tarth. As they entered the armory, both men caught sight of the very shield that drew them there.

Leaving the weapons behind on the first table they could reach, Barristan and Jaime began fussing over Ser Duncan’s shield. It was evident the shield had seen its fair share of battles and tournaments. Chips and dents left it well-marked. At their backs, Brienne sighed as she walked by.

“I suppose I’ll just put these weapons back in the _proper_ place.”

Barristan seemed unaware of Brienne’s words. He was in as much awe over the shield as Jaime was. “This is massive. Can you imagine the size of him? He likely makes Lord Selwyn look like a pup.”

Jaime looked at the backside of the shield and gasped. “Look at the length of the enarmes! His arm must have been massive to warrant that much slack.”

The men continued to fuss over the shield, though Brienne hardly seemed impressed. “I’m going inside then. I suppose the pair of you need a moment to compose yourselves.”

Jaime huffed as Brienne left the armory. At his side, Barristan shook his head; a heavy sigh pushing past his lips. “Eight-and-ten. No regard for history.”

A smirk spread across Jaime’s face as he continued appraising the shield. “None at all. We should take it with us. We’ll appreciate it more than her.”

After forcing themselves to step away from the shield and towards the Keep, the staff led them back into the study where Ned, Selwyn, Arya, and Brienne were already in conversation. It was Ned’s belief that Brienne would be safest in the North, but Jaime felt less confident upon hearing their plan.

“Your kingdom is at war with the crown. What if your army fails and Brienne is captured when the North finds itself defenseless?

Barristan sighed from his seat beside Jaime and shook his head. “Nowhere is safe in Westeros. We could follow rumors of her half-sister, Daenerys, across the sea. We could treat with the girl perhaps? Surely she’ll protect her kin.”

_What!? Bring her to Aerys’ daughter?_

Jaime huffed and crossed his arms. “And what if Daenerys is more Aerys than Rhaella? I’m not bringing Brienne there.”

The Lord Commander shook his head in frustration. “Where would she be safe then? She can’t stay here. The Stormlands are decimated. The Reach and West ally with the crown. The Riverlands and the North are in open rebellion. The Vale is run by a madwoman until her son comes of age. Dorne hates everyone.”

Ned nodded at the words and attempted to allay Jaime’s concerns. “If the North falls, you can take her to the Wall or sail across the sea from Eastwatch. The North is too vast and the crown won’t overrun the lands if they end the rebellion. They would be foolish to declare Brienne’s lineage to the realm. Joffrey was careful in his choice of words. He did not disclose _how_ Brienne is related to House Targaryen. With the question of his own lineage, the crown can’t risk a bastard with greater claim being made known.”

Selwyn grimaced at the word. “She is a Tarth! Not a bastard.”

With a sympathetic glance at Selwyn, Ned shook his head. “She has a _name_ just as Joffrey does. That doesn’t negate the truth and her truth is a threat to Joffrey’s crown. Neither Joffrey nor Brienne have claim to the throne, but Brienne’s is greater than Joffrey’s if no one with a stronger claim lives. All of House Baratheon’s trueborn heirs are dead. Cersei was only queen by marriage, but Rhaella was a princess by birth. That is how the crown will view it. They’re no fools. Robert’s Rebellion was a break in almost three hundred years of Targaryen rule. In the eyes of many, Brienne’s claim is greater than Joffrey’s.”

Jaime knew it was true and he hated the fact. The crown knew of Brienne’s lineage and they would not stop until Brienne was dead.

Considering Ned’s words, Selwyn groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ned has the right of it. If the crown prevails, she’s as good as dead no matter where she is. They’ll not stop until they kill her. She’ll be safer in the North for now, but then what? None of you are safe for aiding her in this.”

Jaime’s eyes flitted to Brienne. She was staring at her hands as they lay clasped in her lap. As she raised her head, a defiant resolve shone in her eyes.

“I’ll return to the city with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. I’ll give testimony refuting what Bran saw at Winterfell. That is the only way to keep everyone safe.”

Jaime felt his chest clench at the words. Before he could protest, Selwyn stood in a fury. “What!? No! You will do no such thing, Brienne! They’ll kill you.”

Shaking her head, Brienne held fast to her decision. “You’ve refused to take another wife and have another babe because of me. I can’t be the heir you need. No man will have me, and my existence is placing everyone in harm’s way. Lord Stark is free now. If nothing else, my death will keep the children safe and the realm at peace. I don’t want anyone dying because of me.”

“This is madness, Brienne. I’ll not lose you because a false heir is having a temper tantrum over truths being revealed!”

Brienne refused to hear it despite all the men trying to convince her otherwise. The thought that Brienne would sacrifice herself for all of them and to satiate his House’s madness and deceit upset Jaime.

_How can anyone be so selfless? She’s too good for this shit world._

Leaning on the table, Selwyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to speak with my daughter alone. Why don’t you all head into the dining hall and I’ll have the staff bring you something to eat and drink.”

Jaime was hesitant to leave Brienne. He wanted her to understand her worth. Protecting Brienne was of the utmost priority and Jaime needed to ensure she did not carry through with her frivolous plans to sacrifice herself for others. The room cleared out quickly, but Jaime lingered. 

Taking pause, Jaime reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold dragon that had been passed back and forth with Brienne in recent weeks. He slid the coin to her and met her eyes.

“Don’t do this. No amount of these can replace you.”


	22. Brienne VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has a talk with her father. The group prepares to depart.

“I had not realized that my failings as a father were so significant that you would sacrifice yourself for a crime not your own.”

Without looking at him, Brienne could feel the heat of her father’s gaze. He leaned over the table as Brienne shifted uncomfortable on her seat. The sound of retreating footsteps drew Brienne’s gaze from her hands to Selwyn’s back as he moved towards the desk on the other side of the room.

Brienne watched in confusion as Selwyn circled the desk and stood before the bookshelf. He removed several books and placed them on the desk at his back. After several were displaced, Brienne noticed a box tucked discreetly at the rear of the shelving.

Selwyn grabbed the box and made his way back to the table where Brienne sat in silence. The older lord took a seat and removed the lid without a word. Sliding the box towards Brienne, Selwyn spoke softly.

“I’ve not been forthcoming with you about many things, Brienne. Let me start with Rhaella. We knew each other quite well on account of my grandfather’s friendship with King Aegon. In youth, my relationship with Rhaella was innocent enough. Stolen kisses during games of chase. Promises of always being there for one another. As we grew older, we were kept apart more and more. I believe her father recognized how close we were, and he made it clear that she was to wed someone of greater station. She met and fell in love with a hedge knight; another match her father would never approve. Damn near broke my heart to hear about in her letters. I didn’t think that I would ever get over her and find another to love. My parents presented various women before me, but I intentionally foiled each match just as you did Ser Humfrey.”

Selwyn chuckled lightly and looked to the ceiling. “Then there was Arianne. Old Nan can be a bit… traditional. Arianne wanted nothing more than to be a knight. Perhaps she got the idea in her head given Old Nan’s constant yammering about Duncan, but the young girl shadowed the Starks and took up the sword. Like me, she also fell in love with someone she could never have. Lady Lyarra Stark.”

Brienne gasped at the words. “Lord Rickard’s wife?”

With a small smile, Selwyn nodded. “Yes. You can imagine how it tortured Arianne to be in such close proximity to the woman she coveted. It was why she was so eager to move south, and I offered her an island in the middle of the sea; a stark contrast to the North. Tarth gave her a way to avoid the daily reminder of the love she could never have.”

The information was shocking, but it suddenly made sense why her father and Arianne were willing to marry. Selwyn reached across the table and squeezed Brienne’s arm.

“Despite only being friends at the time, we cared deeply for each other. From the beginning, we were both very open about where our hearts were. We did our duty and gave Tarth your brother, Galladon. Gods I miss him. He was the best of Arianne and me. Rhaella wrote to me from time to time. She was miserable and afraid of Aerys. I would have taken her anywhere to keep her safe. North, west, south, or even across the bloody sea. A man in love doesn’t think rationally, and I certainly didn’t when I lay with her at that tourney.”

Her father’s admission made Brienne think of Jaime. Despite her distaste for the practice of incest, Brienne was more understanding than most on account of her lineage. Further, it helped Brienne understand Jaime’s reckless actions where it concerned Cersei.

_ ‘A man in love doesn’t think rationally.’ No, I gather not. He almost got them killed at Winterfell. _

Selwyn’s voice drew Brienne’s attention back to him and the box before her. “When we found out that Rhaella was pregnant, she knew it was mine. She had not been with Aerys in too many weeks. After finding out, she went to him. Of course, she had to pretend she wasn’t as far along from that point forward. She refused moon tea. Rhaella was convinced that you were something to be cherished; a child she did not fear the madness setting into. We devised the plan that you are aware of. What you are not aware of is just how much she loved you. When she was sent to Dragonstone, she felt safe to write more freely. We sent missives back and forth where she inquired after you. That is what you’ll find in these missives. That… and the item at the bottom of the box. She wanted you to have it.”

Brienne pulled the box close. She moved aside the missives in Rhaella’s handwriting and found a necklace at the bottom of the box. It was a pendant with House Targaryen’s sigil. The sigil itself was a deep silver, but the dragon’s eyes had small rubies that sparkled in the firelight.

“She begged me to name you Alysanne, but I felt it too… revealing. I regret that I didn’t do that for her. It’s why I named the twins Arianne and Alysanne. Arianne and I eventually grew into our love. She adored you too. Never once did she resent your origins. For the three years she mothered you, you were hers. That is why I can’t tolerate you so willingly giving your life up for my sins. This isn’t your fault, Brienne. It isn’t the fault of Cersei’s and Jaime’s children either, but Joffrey and Cersei are coming for your head. That isn’t right and I hate that you don’t see your worth.”

Selwyn’s tone reflected his frustration, and he shook his head in an effort to settle himself. “I never told you why I never remarried, but after what you said in this room, I need you to hear it.”

Reaching to her face, Selwyn tilted up Brienne’s chin and forced eye contact. “My greatest fear was anyone finding out about your lineage. I feared what it would mean for your safety. Further, I feared that if word got out and I  _ had  _ produced other heirs as my advisors wanted, I worried they would try to see your birthright removed. You are  _ my _ daughter. You are the heir that I want. You will make a great Evenstar when the day comes; with or without a husband. I only tried to force the issue of marriage to keep you safe. I thought that if my advisors saw you produce heirs of your own, they might shut up about me making more heirs. I suppose the more sensible approach is to simply tell them to fuck off and get new advisors. You may be Rhaella’s daughter, but you are a Tarth. Unlike Robert who was cuckolded, you are mine and you will lead  _ our _ people.”

Brienne felt her eyes moisten at his words. “No one will have me though. Our line will die because of me.”

“No, Brienne. Our line lives because of you. I lost my other children and I’ll have no others aside from you. My line would stand to die much sooner were it not for you. Please, go with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. I’m less thrilled about Ser Jaime, but it seems we have him to thank for all this. I’m trying not to judge him for Aerys as you told me not to, though I would appreciate more context.”

Brienne huffed in reply. “It’s his story to tell, but I meant what I said. He had good reason and it had nothing to do with his father being there.”

Putting up a conciliatory hand, Selwyn huffed a laugh. “Fine. Fine. Promise me that you will go with them.”

“What about you!? When they don’t return with me, they’ll come for you!”

Selwyn chuckled. “Let them. I could use a good fight. Tarth needs me here until it is your time to rule. Besides, they can kill me, but they’ll not kill our line. You’ll be the Evenstar, even if in hiding. I’ll name a Castellan and ensure the people know that you will return when it is safe. They will know their heir has not forgotten them. Ser Endrew and our best guards will accompany you with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. Endrew is a good man; loyal like his father was.”

Brienne nodded as Selwyn stood from his chair. Rounding the table, his massive arms wrapped around her. “I love you child. Please be safe and listen to the Kingsguard. No more straying from the escorting party at night! Bring the necklace and remember that I’m not the only one who loves you.”

Selwyn stood upright and inclined his head towards the box. “Have a little read. I wish I could have shown you these sooner, but I was afraid, and I certainly didn’t want you prancing about with that necklace on.”

Brienne watched as her father moved towards the door. He glanced back and smiled wistfully. “You know all those singers that I kept at court while you were a girl?”

The question brought fond memories to the forefront of Brienne’s mind. She adored sitting in the hall and listening to the minstrels. Singing was one of the few things that Brienne enjoyed in youth, though she only sang in private.

With a small nod, Brienne smiled before replying. “I quite enjoyed that.”

“Yes, I know. It was Rhaella’s idea. Rhaegar loved music too and she thought you might respond in kind. You were such a fussy babe until we brought you around singers at court. Quite remarkable really. You always quieted when someone sang to you. Aside from holding a weapon in hand, it was the only time you looked at peace. You can imagine whose idea it was to give a child of three her own wooden sword though.  _ Not _ Rhaella’s idea. Not mine either.”

_ Arianne. _

A wide smile spread across Brienne’s face. “I wish I could remember Lady Arianne more.”

“As do I. I’ll give you some time with those letters.”

Selwyn left the room and Brienne began to read through the missives. She smiled and cried at a few. It was evident in Rhaella’s words how much she loved Brienne and wished to hold her. The thought warmed Brienne’s heart.

A figure slipped into the study and caught Brienne’s attention. Brienne felt her face heat when her eyes landed on Jaime.

“Hiding from us, princess? Your father said he talked some sense into you.”

Jaime took a seat beside Brienne; his eyes scanning the letters that were spread about the table. A small smile tugged at his lips “Are these from Rhaella? I recognize the signature.”

“Yes, she kept in contact with my father.”

Jaime continued to look around the table of scattered papers, but then he saw the necklace by Brienne’s arm and his jaw dropped. “I know that necklace. Is that… that’s Rhaella’s necklace.”

“Apparently she had it sent to my father after leaving King’s Landing for Dragonstone.”

There was a fondness in Jaime’s eyes as he appraised the pendant. “She was a good woman. I wish I could have better protected her from Aerys.”

_ I wonder if that is why he is so kind to me. Perhaps he feels obligated, or perhaps my personality reminds him of Rhaella. Certainly not my appearance.  _

“Thank you for helping us. I’m sorry that it has forced you from your family and your… love.”  _ Cersei _ .

Jaime startled at the words and shook his head. “I’ll protect you no matter the enemy, but in truth I have no desire to fight my House. As for Cersei… she is not… it’s not what you think.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I’ll not judge you as others would. You said it yourself. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

Jaime sighed and rubbed his head. “I thought it was love once, but I was wrong. I see the truth of it now. What we had was not healthy. My heart could never belong to someone such as her.”

Brienne sighed and shook her head. For someone so confident as Jaime, he seemed like a man lost. She hoped that he came to find love one day and lamented that it could never be with her.

“Your father insists on having us all well-fed before we leave. He is having the staff bring up food. You have to sit next to me so that Ned doesn’t. He’s insufferable. I’ve been enduring him for days.”

Laughter shook Brienne’s chest as she gathered the letters and put them in the box. When the letters were tucked away, she placed the necklace inside the box. Before she could carry the box back to the bookshelf, Jaime’s hand moved on top of Brienne’s, bringing her motion to a halt.

“You should wear it. Queen Rhaella gave it to you for a reason. Besides, Joffrey called for your head before all of the court. Surely there is little to hide now.”

For the first time in Brienne’s life, it struck her.  _ The kingdoms might not know who my mother is, but the crown knows. There is little reason to hide who I am. No more secrets. _

“I suppose you’ve the right of it.”

Jaime snorted. “Of course I do! I give nothing but sound advice, but you clearly refuse to take it unless it involves training.”

Before Brienne could reply, Jaime flipped open the box and grabbed the pendant. He stood and placed it around Brienne’s neck. The sensation of his hands grazing the back of her neck sent sparks through Brienne’s body.

“Now you look like a proper princess that Ser Barristan and I will play guard to.”

The words elicited a snort from Brienne. “I am not a princess.”

“Well you’re the closest thing we have now.” There was jest in Jaime’s tone, but sadly, the words were not untrue. Brienne worried at the implications for the two Kingsguard secreting her away.

After returning the box to the bookshelf, Brienne and Jaime moved towards the dining hall. Brienne bristled at the sight of Roelle next to Lord Stark and Lady Arya. Across from them, Barristan sat and spoke to Lord Selwyn who sat at the head of the table. 

Jaime leaned into Brienne’s ear and spoke quietly. “Who is that?”

“My septa. Now I have no desire to sit near Lord Stark either.”

Jaime surprised Brienne by pulling her arm to his as though he was playing at escort. “Come now princess, let me free you from that evil cunt. This will be fun.”

_ Oh no. What is he doing to do? _

Jaime led Brienne around the table and seated her between himself and Barristan. The older knight gasped at the pendant and smiled widely. With a nod of approval at Brienne, Barristan looked back to his plate and continued eating.

Selwyn began speaking to Ned when Brienne took her seat, but Jaime’s voice carried across the table and caught her father’s attention.

“What’s with the wrinkly old woman?”

Brienne felt her jaw go slack at Jaime’s words. To her left Barristan’s fork clattered to the plate and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Hold your tongue, Jaime.”

“Excuse me? I think I misheard you?” Selwyn’s tone was a warning to Jaime as his eyes narrowed at the younger Kingsguard. For her part, Roelle sat in stunned silence.

Feigning innocence, Jaime smiled at Selwyn and spoke louder. “I said, what is with the wrinkly old woman? Not Ned… the other one next to him.”

Barristan groaned at Brienne’s side, but for her part, Brienne could do little more than stare in shock at Jaime. The glint in Jaime’s eye was dangerous and reminded Brienne of his expression when he accosted her, Bran, and Catelyn at Winterfell.

“That is my daughter’s Septa you speak of! Do not sit at my table and insult my household staff.”

Jaime furrowed his brows quizzically and shrugged as though the comment was absurd. “So I may not insult your staff, yet your staff can insult your daughter?”

Brienne implored Jaime to stop, but he stared challengingly across the table at Roelle.

Shock gripped Selwyn’s features and was quickly replaced by fury. “What are you on about!? That is Brienne’s septa, and I mean to send her with you!”

Brienne nearly choked at the words. Her eyes snapped to her father in question.

_ Send her with us!? _

While refusing to look away from Roelle, Jaime spat venomously at the woman and pointed his fork at her. “By the Seven, if you try to send that  _ thing _ with us, I’ll do far worse than what I did to Aerys.”

Selwyn stood in a rage and slammed the table. “What is the meaning of this!?”

Those assembled sat gaping at Jaime, but Brienne understood what he was doing. She was torn between thanking him and telling him to shut up. Only Arya seemed amused by the unexpected turn of events. The young girl bit her lip and looked to her lap; her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Continuing to point his fork at Roelle, Jaime snarled at her. “That creature over there told your daughter that a man would only wed her for your land and title. That a man would never desire her. That any compliment she receives from a man is a lie to win her favor… that her truth is in the mirror.”

A heavy silence descended over the hall. Brienne could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. Her palms began to sweat as her breathing accelerated. She tried to grab Jaime’s right wrist to lower the fork he was still pointing in Roelle’s direction.

“It’s alright, Ser Jaime. I…”

Jaime grabbed her hand with his left while keeping his eyes trained on Roelle. Lowering Brienne’s hand to the table, Jaime held her hand firmly in his while continuing to point at Roelle with his fork. “If that worthless sack of bones tries to come with us, I’ll use her for my morning drills.”

Selwyn barked at Roelle who was sitting in a stupor besides Ned. “Is this true!? Have you been insulting my daughter? Is this the filth you tell her!?”

Roelle’s head slowly turned towards Selwyn. The shock lining her face slowly gave way to beguilement.

“My lord, the girl twists my words and misinforms the Kingslayer.”

“Don’t call him that.” Barristan snapped at Roelle from Brienne’s left side.

The aged septa huffed a laugh and raised a brow at Barristan. Her honeyed tones were a sharp reminder of the contrived pleasantries she presented to Brienne throughout life. “Is that not his name?”

Rage simmered in Brienne as she looked at Roelle for the first time since sitting down. “His name is Jaime.”

Stalking towards Roelle, Selwyn shook his head. “You did not answer my question. Did you say those things to my daughter?”

Roelle huffed a laugh and glanced at Brienne. The septa’s hand gestured towards Brienne as she replied to Selwyn “Truly, my lord. You’ve endured  _ this _ your entire life. Surely you understand my plight. The gods have not given me anything to work with. I’ve only done the best that I can for you and Tarth, but not even that old knight, Ser Humfrey, would have her. This is a fool’s errand.”

Jaime leaned forward and sneered at Roelle. “A fool’s errand? What do you know of the wants of men? Do you fancy yourself some prize? I’d just as soon lose my cock than let it anywhere near you. Lady Brienne has more to offer in her smile than you have in your entire miserable body.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. No one had ever defended her to such an extent. The other men in the room did not snicker or look to Jaime in disbelief at his words. Instead, they glared at Roelle with disdain.

Brienne watched as a storm settled over her father’s features. She had seen that look only a handful of times in life, and it never meant anything good for the recipient of his ire.

Without taking his eyes off Roelle, Selwyn spoke to Brienne in a tone that brokered no argument. “Brienne, how long has she been saying things like this to you? Give me the truth, girl.”

In truth, Brienne could not recall a time when Roelle did not belittle her. It was only then that Brienne realized Jaime was still gripping her hand. He squeezed firmly and snapped Brienne from whatever fog she was in.

“I… I don’t recall any words to the contrary.”

A false smile tugged at Selwyn’s lips as he pulled Roelle’s chair backwards from the table. The septa scrambled to her feet and backed away slowly. “My lord! You can’t possibly fault me for her failures! Look at her!”

“I have looked at her every day of her life and she is perfect. She is not a failure. You are. You can think about  _ your  _ failures in the cells until I determine your punishment.”

With a large hand to Roelle’s elbow, Selwyn pulled her into the hallway and barked at the guards. Angry words commanded the guards to take Roelle to the dungeon until she stood trial.

A hum of satisfaction pushed past Jaime’s lips as he released Brienne’s hand and reached for his wine cup. “Much better. She was ruining the mood.”

Brienne stared at Jaime in shock as she considered what happened. A small laugh carried from the other side of the table and Ned shushed Arya quickly. Before Brienne could summon the words and courage to speak, Selwyn stormed back into the room. He sat into his chair and sighed heavily.

“Apologies for that. Had I known the quality of the woman, she would have been in the cells many years ago.”

The rest of the meal was relatively subdued. Throughout the conversation, Selwyn looked to Brienne with sorrow in his eyes. She would never fault her father for Roelle’s cruelties. Brienne never told him of Roelle’s hurtful words, nor did she fault Roelle for speaking them. They were not untrue and Brienne believed the woman only meant to prepare her for what she would face.

When the plates were cleared, Selwyn began directing the staff to ensure everything was in order for the group’s departure. Brienne followed her father into the courtyard and appraised the area. 

There was a swirl of activity as the staff prepared horses for a ride to the harbor. Sorrow and fear dueled for dominance in Brienne. She didn’t want to leave her father, and she feared what the crown may do to him.

At Brienne’s despair, Selwyn shook his head and tugged her close. “None of that. Be strong. You’re the future Evenstar!”

Brienne melted into her father’s embrace. He was the only man who could make her feel small and lovable. With a firm squeeze, Selwyn whispered into Brienne’s ear.

“I had no idea about Roelle. I’m sorry, child. She’ll be properly punished when you’re gone.”

Brienne began to protest, but he shook his head. “Ser Jaime had the right of it. She isn’t worthy of mercy, so don’t go asking for it. Let me deal with her.”

Glancing between Ned, Barristan, and Jaime, Selwyn spoke commandingly. “Now, as to your journey, I’ve asked Ser Endrew to select twenty of our best guards. They’ll provide added protection to you all. I thank you for taking care of my Brienne.”

Nodding in understanding, Ned approached and placed a hand on Selwyn’s arm. “You’ve Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan to thank. I swear to you that the North will care for Brienne as though their own. I’ll write ahead to Cat and ask that she safeguard Brienne and the men with our army.”

At the words, Selwyn flinched. “Won’t you be with them?”

With a sorrowful shake of his head, Ned indicated that he would not be. “They have Sansa in the city. I need to return for her. I won’t leave her to the mercy of the crown.”

Panic began to bubble in Brienne. Ned returning to the city would result in little more than his head on a spike. Before she could beg him to go north, Barristan approached.

“Lord Stark, you cannot go back there. You’re as good as dead the moment you set foot in that city.”

Composing himself, Ned met Barristan’s eyes. “I appreciate what you and Ser Jaime did for me and Arya, but I’ll not leave Sansa behind. Please, take Arya with you and keep her safe. I’ll get Sansa out of that city or die trying.”

“Then you’ll die!” Barristan was beside himself at Ned’s plan. In truth, it was madness, but Brienne understood. She couldn’t leave her loved ones behind either. At Ned’s side, Arya began to panic and tug at his arm. 

“No! Don’t go back. They’ll kill you.” Arya’s words were desperate and Brienne understood all too well. She wished her own father would consider his safety in the current situation.

“I’ll go.” Jaime’s words caught everyone by surprise. “I won’t be suspected. I can get into the Keep to get Sansa out. Ned’s right. She’s not safe there. I hadn’t considered it in the rush to leave.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide. “You’re a Kingsguard and we must protect Brienne! You can’t go back there. You don’t think they’ll notice when you show up alone without any Tarths and Ned missing in the cells?”

A smirk spread across Jaime’s face. “Of course they’ll notice and I’ll tell them the truth of what happened here. Unbeknownst to me, you secreted Ned away as a disguised Gold Cloak. When we arrived on Tarth and took Lord Selwyn and Lady Brienne prisoner, you revealed the plot. The men boarded the ship to secret the Tarths away to Essos where Brienne’s half-sister is. Fortunately, I’m an  _ incredible  _ swordsman. I managed to kill nearly all the crew and the Gold Cloaks in an attempt to ensure the Tarths were executed. Not so fortunately for me, I was no match for Barristan the Bold.”

Jaime removed the dagger at his hip and flipped it. With the hilt pointed at Barristan, Jaime swallowed thickly. “Aim true. Do try to avoid anything I need to live.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide, and she moved to protest, but before she could speak, Barristan had the dagger in hand and had thrust it into Jaime’s middle; just below his breastplate. Jaime grimaced and bit his lip, but he did not cry out in pain.

Barristan pulled Jaime into an embrace after removing the dagger. “Good lad. You’re the best of us. Be careful and we’ll see you at Winterfell.”

Looking at Ned and her father, Brienne saw the shock on their faces. Selwyn called for an attendant and gave his orders. “Tell the harbormaster we need an unmarked shipping vessel to take Ser Jaime back to the city. Disguise the maester and get him on that bloody boat! I don’t want Ser Jaime to fall ill with infection. I want the wound monitored.”

Barristan broke the embrace and patted Jaime’s cheek. With a nod, Barristan moved to his horse and looked back to Brienne. “Lets go. We need to move quickly.”

Ned took slow steps towards Jaime and grabbed him by the shoulders. He shook his head in disbelief at what he had witnessed. “Seven hells. I’ll never be able to repay you for all this.”

The pain in Jaime’s voice was evident as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Good. I intend to outshine you in all things.”

Ned huffed a laugh and clapped Jaime’s shoulder. “The North remembers.”

“Yes, yes. And winter is coming. Now unless you have a rag or some poppy, fuck off.”

Stepping towards Jaime as he was bent at the waist in pain, Brienne removed the gold dragon from her pocket. Reaching for his hands which clutched at his wound, Brienne met his eyes. She pushed the coin into his palm and tried to convey through her eyes what she was too craven to say aloud.

“For luck.”


	23. Jaime XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime arrives back in King's Landing. As he recovers, he plans and hears what is going on to the north.

Jaime clutched the gold dragon in his hand as his lungs desperately sucked in the sea air. Despite the maester’s best efforts, not stitching up the wound was proving difficult to keep infection at bay. Before leaving Tarth, Selwyn and the maester implored Jaime to let them stitch the wound crudely as though a local healer gave aid. They insisted that Jaime could claim the effort was out of the villagers’ fear of retaliation from the crown.

Despite their protests, Jaime had refused. He wanted the struggle to appear genuine. It was imperative that the crown not second-guess the tale and his loyalty. Returning weak was better than returning healthy without prisoners. With his father in the city, Jaime was certain that Tywin would believe his word, just as Tywin forced himself to believe the rumors of incest false; anything to save his legacy.

The next hour passed in a blur as the boat docked and the captain called for aid. Gold Cloaks immediately boarded the ship and dragged Jaime to the Keep on horseback. The ride was excruciating as his wound was disturbed by uneven roads.

When at last Jaime arrived, he was nearly unconscious from the pain. He remembered little except for the feeling of several sets of hands guiding him to a room. Tyrion’s voice drifted in and out of Jaime’s head while armor and clothing was stripped away.

The sound of Pycelle’s shambling feet and ancient voice filled the space around him. Everything was a blur, but soon, the world faded to black. Blue eyes were all Jaime could see in the darkness. They guided him forward as he stumbled blindly in the dark; his hand outstretched for aid.

As he followed blue eyes through eternal darkness, Jaime heard voices from all directions. He heard Rhaella’s voice begging Jaime to keep Brienne safe. He heard Ser Arthur’s voice bidding him protect the innocent. He heard his mother’s voice reminding him to be good.

Soon, the darkness faded away as blue eyes guided him into the light. Jaime’s eyes fluttered open and he was met with a gentle breeze coming in over the balcony. The room was filled with sunlight and the shadows on the wall suggested it was midday. Pain coursed through Jaime’s body as he looked around the room.

To Jaime’s left, Tyrion was asleep in a chair with a book over his chest. Jaime wanted to call out to him, but his throat was too parched. It felt to Jaime as though he had not consumed water in weeks.

In naught but a whisper, Jaime called out. “Tyr… Tyrion…”

It took several more tries, but Tyrion’s eyes fluttered open. Sleep gave way to shock as Tyrion noticed Jaime awake and desperately trying to call out to him.

“Thank the gods! You’re awake. What do you need? Water?”

Jaime nodded slowly at the offer. Without hesitation, Tyrion moved to a corner table and quickly poured a cup of water. When he returned to Jaime’s bedside, Tyrion used the chair to climb onto the bed without spilling the liquid.

“Here, drink slowly.” Tyrion tilted the cup to Jaime’s chapped lips.

After drinking as much as he could, Jaime began to take stock of his body’s condition. He felt weak and dizzy. His eyes hurt as he glanced towards the balcony.

“How long?” It was all Jaime could muster, but Tyrion understood the question.

“Near a fortnight. The ship’s captain told us of what happened on Tarth. Father is furious and Cersei was ready to wage war, but they had no direction to send a fleet. From what the captain said, Barristan took the Tarths east to ally with the Targaryens.”

Jaime wanted to ask what befell Tarth. He feared the crown sending soldiers to take the island and name a new lord. To the best of his ability, he inquired after the island knowing full well that Selwyn was still there. “Tarth?”

“He awarded the island to some Stormlands knight who laid claim. Ronnet something or other. Cersei found his tale of the broken betrothal to Brienne amusing. She sent him to Tarth with the crown’s decree that he will rule. We’ve just received his missive a few days ago that the Tarths are indeed gone, but the island offers its loyalty to King Joffrey.”

Jaime bit back a laugh knowing Ronnet could never defeat Selwyn and his men. It was too perfect, and he could only imagine the shock on Ronnet’s face when he marched into Evenfall and was met with a rather occupied Keep.

Before Jaime could reply, Tyrion was fishing into his pocket for something. He pulled out the gold dragon and held it before Jaime. “You cannot believe the struggle we had to pry this from your hand. Are you lacking for coin brother? I know that Kingsguard hold no lands nor earn pay for service, but truly, if you’re in lacking, you need only ask.”

Tyrion’s voice was teasing as he dangled the coin before Jaime. There was dry blood caked into the grooves of the coin which somehow felt fitting. Taking the coin, Jaime smiled. “It’s my lucky coin.”

“You called for her in sleep you know.”

Jaime felt his breathing stop. While he felt no love for Cersei, Jaime prayed to the Seven he had called for her so as not to rouse suspicion. “Cersei?”

Tyrion raised an unimpressed brow and shook his head in refute. “Brienne.”

At the panic on Jaime’s face, Tyrion held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve been your only visitor. Father came in once to ensure you still drew breath, but beyond that…” Tyrion grimaced and looked away.

Moons ago, Jaime would have been devastated at the information. Now, he felt nothing; only a desire to get back to Brienne. The plan was simple enough. Jaime would secret Sansa out of the city and return her to Winterfell. There, he and Barristan would safeguard Brienne until the war between the crown and the rebel armies was done. 

All Jaime asked of Ned was that mercy be afforded to the children. If he could, Jaime would take Tommen and Myrcella with him. If not, he would beg mercy for the children when the war was done.

Tyrion’s voice captured Jaime’s attention. He spoke in hushed tones as he leaned towards Jaime. “Who is she to you? I saw you with her at Winterfell and I heard you danced with her at Renly’s feast. This is a woman you were meant to return to King’s Landing for execution.”

“I imagine that I only called out for her on account of my failed mission. She is nothing to me.”

It hurt to speak the lie, but Jaime couldn’t be forthcoming with Tyrion. He couldn’t risk Brienne’s life nor the plan to secret Sansa from the city.

A small smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips. He glanced to the door and spoke at a nearly inaudible level. “When the time comes… take me with you.”

The look in Tyrion’s eyes was clear. He knew something was afoot. It unnerved Jaime that Tyrion could read him so easily. There was something about Tyrion’s ability to see through Jaime that always unsettled him.

With a subtle nod of the head, Jaime stared wide-eyed at Tyrion. His younger brother hopped down from the bed and smiled at Jaime. “I’ll go tell the Lord Hand that his only recognized son and heir is alive _and_ awake. Your health is restored and your coin returned.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head as Tyrion moved into the hallway. He flipped around the coin in his hand and smiled. Just a while longer, and Jaime would be on his way north to Brienne; to honor.

Not an hour later, Tywin stormed into Jaime’s recovery room. Without so much as a greeting, Tywin launched into his list of demands and expectations.

“Good. You’re awake. The crown has not announced the disappearance of Ned Stark nor Arya Stark. We will not be made to look weak as rebels move against us. I have plans to deal with the North, and you will play your part. I’ve left Addam in charge of the army near the Neck, but you will soon take his place and command our forces.”

Jaime listened in stunned silence as Tywin moved towards the bed with an emotionless expression etched across his face.

“Thanks to our ties with House Frey through your aunt and some foolish actions by the Stark boy, Lord Frey has agreed to ally with us in exchange for the title of Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. Rumors swirl that the young wolf committed some egregious missteps. For one, he agreed to wed one of Lord Frey's daughters, but a fortnight ago, he slighted the man and wed some woman he met on the battlefield.”

Tywin appraised Jaime’s wound as though a nuisance preventing immediate participation in the revised plans he was carving out.

“If that wasn’t enough, the dolt won a battle and captured valuable prisoners; your younger cousins, Cleos, Willem, Martyn, and Tion. Apparently Cleos killed some northern vassal’s son after their group’s surrender in battle. In return, a group of unruly northmen visited the cells and killed all four. Needless to say, Lord Frey did not take kindly to the killing of two of his grandsons, nor is he pleased at the young wolf’s broken commitment.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. Kevan had lost two of his three sons, and Gina had lost two of her four. Disgust bubbled in Jaime’s gut at the unjustified killing of prisoners to avenge a death in battle. 

“In addition to House Frey joining our cause, Lord Bolton will be named Warden of the North, and he will be granted Winterfell. They will kill the Stark boy in return for these honors. With Ned having fled across the sea, and Robb Stark soon to be dead, House Stark will be in ruins.”

Jaime huffed at the words and shook his head. “The North will never accept House Bolton so long as a Stark draws breath. Ned has two others sons.”

“Balon Greyjoy’s son took Winterfell and killed the younger two boys. That will make Sansa heir. I care little for how House Bolton is received in the North. Eventually, Tommen and Sansa will wed. They can rule at Winterfell if House Bolton fails. Let the North fight among themselves until then.”

Tywin dropped something heavy onto the bed which captured Jaime’s attention. Initially, Jaime had not noticed that his father was holding something upon entry, but now there was no missing it. The sun’s rays caught the golden hilt of a sword. Jaime eyed the sheathed sword with a question in his eyes.

Answering Jaime’s unspoken question, Tywin looked at the sword and spoke boastfully. “Valyrian steel. Newly forged.”

Jaime shook his head in confusion. “What? They don’t make Valyrian steel swords anymore..”

Tywin raised a challenging brow. “No, they do not. This was forged from a much larger sword that once sat at Ned Stark’s hip. Joffrey has been given the other half as a wedding present. He and Lady Margaery will marry in a fortnight. As for you, you will be released from the Kingsguard and take your place as my heir. We need alliances now and you’ll do your part for our House.”

Anger simmered in Jaime’s core. He spat through gritted teeth as he looked to Tywin. “I’m a Kingsguard. I serve for life.”

“You are my son and you will serve our House. Joffrey will release you from your vows once we name a new Lord Commander. In the meantime, you’ll take the role of that traitorous coward who fled across the sea with Ned Stark and the Tarths.”

The insult to Barristan left a bitter taste in Jaime’s mouth. He bit his lip to keep from lashing out. Unaware of Jaime’s internal struggle, Tywin continued to yammer on about his expectations of Jaime and what was to come.

“We need Dorne and the Vale. Cersei will wed Prince Oberyn and you will wed Lysa Arryn as you were meant to years ago. The Vale will crush any remaining hopes of the North and Riverlands from the east, while Cersei brings us the last kingdom.”

_Political pawns. That’s all we’ve ever been to him. I’ll wed Lysa no sooner than I’ll flee with Cersei across the Narrow Sea in a bid to wed her._

Jaime snorted from his position on the bed. “You’ll not unite the kingdoms through forced marriages any sooner than you’ll end this war through House Frey and House Bolton. Those rumors about Joffrey and Myr…”

Tywin interrupted quickly. His tone held a dangerous edge as he glared at Jaime. “Are just that! Filthy rumors. Joffrey is the rightful king and you are his dutiful uncle who will take his place at the Rock. Do I make myself clear?”

Jaime’s tone was spiteful as he spoke. “Is our king even capable of bedding his bride? When I last saw Joffrey, his squeaky voice was echoing off the Keep walls.”

A long shadow blocked out the sun shining in through the balcony. Tywin leaned over Jaime and snarled. “You and your sister nearly destroyed this family through false rumors with your unnecessary proximity. You’ll fix this and become the man you were always meant to be.”

_The man I am meant to be is to protect a princess in the north._

“After Joffrey’s wedding, you will be released from your vows and a raven will leave this Keep for the Citadel naming you the lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. I’ll not see that bloody white cloak on your shoulders for longer than a fortnight before you once more wear our House colors.”

Over the next few days Jaime received few visitors. Aside from Tyrion, no one except Pycelle and Tyrion’s squire, Podrick Payne, entered the room. On the occasions Podrick joined Tyrion, the boy stood quietly in the corner and smiled widely as the brothers spoke.

_‘Does he speak, or does he just stare and smile awkwardly all the time?’_

Tyrion had snorted at the question and took a long sip of his wine. ‘He talks as much as Ser Ilyn Payne, but smiles more in an hour than his kin does in a year.’

Now as Tyrion visited alone, he spoke on a number of topics, but all Jaime could think of was Brienne. Her eyes were a silent plea in his dreams. The threatening hands of his House reached out for her in his subconscious, and Jaime awoke with a firm reminder of why he needed to act quickly.

Jaime sat on his bed and stared vacantly over the balcony as Tyrion rambled about matters of the small council. It wasn’t for lack of care that Jaime tuned Tyrion out, but all Jaime could see were his wasted years in the Kingsguard. Brienne was his chance at redemption. For once, he could be proud of the person he stood guard beside.

Aerys left Jaime disenchanted and numb. Robert left Jaime bitter and cruel. Strangely, it was Joffrey on the throne with Cersei in his ear that unnerved Jaime the most. To his right, Tyrion prattled on about Cersei’s rage at her forced betrothal to Oberyn.

In truth, it struck Jaime odd that the Viper would agree to the terms. The man was notorious for fucking near anything that walked, and Oberyn made Robert seem like a Septon in comparison. Glancing to his side, Jaime considered Tyrion who was seemingly unaware of how emotionally distant Jaime was.

“I need you to bring Sansa with you on the morrow. I need to speak with you both.”

That was all Jaime offered. Tyrion’s jaw clamped shut and he appraised Jaime with narrowed eyes. With little more than a nod, Tyrion agreed, and the brothers sat in silence a while longer. Then Tyrion spoke once more; his words leaving Jaime in stunned silence.

“What was she like? Our mother?”

Turning to look at Tyrion, Jaime snorted. “Picture father and then the exact opposite. I don’t remember her so much as how she made me feel. She was… warm. She would not ask things of us as father does. She would want us happy.”

Standing from his chair, Tyrion offered a small smile. “I’ll bring Sansa on the morrow.” Tyrion hesitated before continuing. His brows furrowed in contemplation before he looked back at Jaime. “Aunt Genna said you are the most like her. Our mother. I’m sorry that I took her from you.”

The words startled Jaime. He stared dumbfounded at Tyrion before finding his words. “You didn’t take her from me. The gods did. I’ve never condemned you for it.”

“The rest of our House does.” Tyrion sighed and looked at Jaime curiously. He whispered the next words he spoke. “I don’t know where you’re going, but… I’ll follow you. You’re the only kin I can rely on. A constancy if you will. You don’t look at me like the others do. You see _me_.”

 _Constancy._ The thought reminded Jaime of Brienne and their nights under the stars. He considered how well Tyrion and Brienne would get along. Even in extremes, there were similarities. They both understood the cruelties of the world where it concerned anything deemed different. Both had received scorn from their peers, and rejection from those who should hold them dearest. Brienne from her Septa. Tyrion from his House.

“Tyrion.” Jaime grabbed Tyrion’s arm before he could leave. “I’m going to protect someone worthy; not perform a duty born out of vows. No more guarding unworthy sovereigns for me. They can deal with their own mess.”

With a small smile, Tyrion nodded in understanding. “I know. I didn’t think you could, but I’m glad you are.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. There was much to unpack in Tyrion’s words, but it struck Jaime that Tyrion didn’t think he could walk away from dishonorable people. Jaime’s brows furrowed and he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“What do you mean? You didn’t think I could choose honor over our House?”

Tyrion’s face reflected a lifetime of disappointment.

“I didn’t think you could walk away from _her_ , no matter how worthy the cause. You could have come home after Aerys. You stayed for _her_ . I always knew, even if others turned a blind eye to it. Cersei was the only one you couldn’t defend me from. You were always my protector, but where it concerned _her_ …” Tyrion trailed off and he sighed. Shaking his head, he smiled and looked back at Jaime.

“I never blamed you for it. You’ve always been driven by love. It’s why Aunt Genna says you’re like our mother. Unfortunately, Cersei always tried to use your love against me. I never expected to see you stand up for me where it concerned our sister. I suppose that’s why I didn’t think you could chase honor if it meant leaving or opposing _her_. But…” Tyrion smiled widely, and his eyes misted.

“You protected your queen’s daughter. Varys told me of the rumor that caused Joffrey’s decree. I inquired after you left. It had surprised me how you jumped to lead the mission. I saw how you returned with a hole in your gut and a name on your lips. I heard how you danced and sparred, though to you, they’re likely the same thing.”

Tyrion chuckled as he spoke, then his mirth died, and he spoke with the utmost sincerity. “I heard how you saved her from rape. My big brother is a good man and a great knight, but at his heart, he always acts for love. I’m just glad that _this_ love is honorable.”

Tyrion walked towards the door and grabbed the handle. A sad smile lined his face as he offered one final thought. “You see the worth in those deemed unlovable. The world may never forget what we are, but you see us for who we truly are.”


	24. Brienne VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne sails with her group towards White Harbor. They receive unfortunate news from Lord Manderly.

Guilt weighed heavy on Brienne as she stood at the bow of the ship. She rolled the pendant between her fingers and stared at the necklace. In the dark of night as the ship glided along the relatively calm sea, Brienne questioned if her ugliness had cost her father his life.

_ If I was pretty or average looking, I would be wed with babes by now. I’d not have left Tarth, and his secret would be safe. He would be safe.  _

Looking to the stars, Brienne noted with dismay how far the Evenstar was from the position of the ship. They had been sailing for too many days to count, and on the morrow, they would reach White Harbor.

Brienne thought of Jaime and prayed to the Seven that he would heal well. Her life had compromised the safety of many with Jaime being the latest victim of her failures. Part of Brienne still considered marching towards the capital and offering her head for the safety of everyone else.

Another part of Brienne took comfort in the words offered by her father. People had loved her and risked their lives for her safety. It seemed selfish to feel warmed by the thought. Brienne chastised herself for sailing away from trouble while others risked their lives because of her.

Brienne let out a deep sigh as she continued staring at the necklace. Her breath reached out before her in a puff of condensation but faded quickly as the ship moved forward. The temperature had shifted once they sailed past Dragonstone and continued north around the Fingers.

A presence at Brienne’s side cut through her thoughts. Barristan Selmy reached out and grabbed the railing while appraising the night sky. He looked tired; not so much of body but of mind.

With a small smile, Brienne nodded at the renowned knight. “Good evening, Ser Barristan.”

“Princess Brienne.” Barristan had used the title for her since they left Tarth. The older knight’s spoke with a reverent formality. 

By comparison, when Jaime used the title, it felt different. His tone conveyed more than courtly formality. Behind Jaime’s words were jest, regard, care, and something that Brienne couldn’t quite place.

Still, the title made Brienne laugh each time. She knew herself to be a bastard who played at a Tarth. She was no princess.

“I’m as much a princess as Joffrey is a king.” Brienne’s tone was light, but the words factual.

The aged knight shook his head and nodded at her necklace. “You’re far more a princess than Joffrey is a king. I fear that I would not be here were it not for that fact. Only Ser Jaime considered the justice in saving you before his duty as a Kingsguard. He’s a better knight than me.”

A sad smile stretched across Barristan’s face. Brienne couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. Without thinking, Brienne reached out and grabbed his forearm. “There is nothing wrong in honoring duty. Whether with or without knowledge, King Robert claimed those children. I’d have done the same as you.”

Barristan shook his head and huffed a small laugh. “I think not. You’re a Tarth. Justice and honor are as important to you as duty. It’s one of the things that I respect most in your father. He didn’t declare for anyone where it concerned Robert’s Rebellion. Duty would have him follow Robert, but he didn’t feel the act just nor honorable. He knew that Rhaegar would make a far better king than Robert. Robert was not a bad man, but he was a warrior; not a king. He didn’t know how to rule. He only knew that he was angry and slighted at Lyanna’s kidnapping.”

Brienne sighed and shook her head. “None of us are without fault. My father laid with a queen.”

Barristan hummed and nodded, but he looked to Brienne curiously. “What is your fault, Princess?”

A small laugh pushed past Brienne’s lips. “I can’t do my duty. I can’t sew without stabbing my fingers. I can’t curtsey without falling on my face. I can’t wear a dress without insulting the seamstress. I can’t marry and give my father heirs. None of it is for lack of effort or desire; it’s for lack of ability. I can fight though. I’d gladly serve a worthy king or queen.”

Barristan sighed and leaned against the ship’s railing. “I do hate to break it to you, but unless the North plans on naming a sovereign on conquest alone, you’re the closest to an heir the kingdoms have.”

“I’m not a leader. I’m just a woman with a sword. The rumors say that Robb makes a fine young king in the North. Perhaps he will win the throne as King Robert did.”

Barristan sighed and nodded. “Yes, he could. Anyone could conquer and take the crown, but I do believe there is something to be said for tradition and dynasty. Aerys wasn’t fit to rule, but why destroy what Aegon built because of one unworthy king. He was hardly the first unworthy Targaryen ruler, but yet, our kingdoms still stand.”

_ Why though? Why must a generation endure a cruel sovereign for tradition or dynasty? What has House Targaryen done to deserve unconditional support? Why not hold ourselves to a higher standard? _

Brienne sighed and looked to the sky. Her constant. She wondered for how long she would view the skies from under the lands of Westeros. She wondered if she would be forced across the Narrow Sea to live in exile as Rhaella’s trueborn children were.

“Ser Barristan… if the North and Riverlands lose this war, I don’t want you to feel obligated to guard and protect me. I’m not a sovereign and I’m not worth such an effort. I don’t much like the thought of killing, but I can protect myself well enough with a sword. I’ll do what I must to keep myself safe.”

The aged knight tilted his head and chuckled at Brienne. “You remind me of your half-brother, Rhaegar. He was fierce with a weapon, but he hated killing.”

Brienne startled at the words. “Truly? I just assumed… well… I suppose I shouldn’t assume.” Taking pause, Brienne considered her training at Evenfall. “On Tarth, Ser Goodwin made me assist the butcher. He feared that I was too soft to kill in combat, so he had the butcher instruct me to kill the pigs.”

A low, rumbling laugh shook Barristan’s chest. “And how did you handle it?”

Brienne grimaced. “Not terribly well. I kept naming the poor things. It didn’t seem right, but… I did it. I hated it, but I did it.”

A warm hand came to Brienne’s back as Barristan looked back to the sea. “Ser Jaime says you’re remarkable with a sword, and he only ever praises himself. Surely you must be good.”

Brienne chuckled and shook her head. “He isn’t lacking confidence. When I won the melee some moons ago, he said it was only because he didn’t enter.”

Sharing a laugh at the rails, Barristan rolled his eyes. “I expect no less. He rarely trains with others; finds them too dull and unworthy. From what little he shared on the journey to Tarth, he trained quite a bit with you along the kingsroad.”

Brienne’s cheeks flushed at the words and she looked to the sea stretching out before them. “He aided my training greatly. The guards at Evenfall could certainly tell the difference when I returned. I bested them in the half the moves it usually takes.”

A sad smile tugged at Barristan’s lips. “Your father says you preferred the minstrels at court to a sword. I suppose that’s another way you remind me of Rhaegar. Do you sing too?”

At the question, Brienne felt her cheeks heat more than before. “I’ve always enjoyed singing, but I find it best not to draw attention to myself. Listening to the singers at Evenfall was among my fondest memories as a child.”

Barristan hummed and nodded. “Yes, your father mentioned as much while he afforded you privacy to read some of Rhaella’s missives. Rhaegar was a very good singer. He and I often ventured into the city together and he liked to see how much coin he could earn from the crowds.”

The information made Brienne smile. It was comforting to hear of her half-siblings and mother. It made her feel part of a family even if she could never know them. They spoke a while longer of Rhaegar and Rhaella, but there was no kindness to speak of regarding Aerys.

When the conversation faded, they stood in companionable silence for some time. It was another two days before they reached White Harbor. When they arrived, Brienne’s world was shaken once more.

They met with Lord Wyman Manderly not long after docking. He was a portly man of sixty with a booming laugh and rosy cheeks.

“Thank the gods you’re well, my lord. My sons are out fighting for your boy. The Young Wolf they call him! He leads our men fiercely in battle. We had not heard that you were freed by the crown.”

Ned updated the older lord to the happenings in the capital. When he introduced Brienne, uncertainty clouded Ned’s features. “This is Lady Brienne Tarth. She is wanted by the crown for suspected lineage to House Targaryen. Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime rescued her from an unnecessary execution.”

The older lord’s brows furrowed in contemplation. “Have they seen her? She doesn’t look the part to me.” When his eyes scanned Brienne’s person and landed on the pendant, his eyes went wide.

“Then again… I see where they got the idea. What would you have me do with them, my lord?”

Ned’s eyes darted to Barristan and Brienne. His brows furrowed as he considered the question. “Keep them safe and sheltered here. Brienne is like a daughter to me, so I expect she will be treated as such. I need to ride out immediately and speak with my family. Before we determine the best course of action, we need to discuss some things.”

With a heavy sigh Lord Manderly told them of the fighting at the Neck and Theon’s betrayal. The news was devastating, and Ned visibly swayed at the information. Given her limited encounters with Theon, Brienne was not surprised at Theon’s actions.

Theon struck Brienne as arrogant and self-serving. Tears stung the back of Brienne’s eyes at the thought of Bran’s body burned and swaying in a cool, northern breeze. Through watery eyes, she looked to Lord Manderly.

“Apologies Lord Manderly, but are you certain? Have any of Lord Stark’s men confirmed it was Bran and Rickon?” Brienne voiced the question that Ned lacked the strength to ask. The Stark patriarch was despondent. In a matter of moon turns, two of his children were assumed dead, one a political prisoner, and one leading a war in his name.

The older lord exhaled loudly and shook his head. “It has yet to be confirmed. Truthfully, I think it’s the only thing that is keeping Lady Stark going. By all accounts, she is a woman in grief. I’ll write ahead to inform her of your presence here, Lord Stark. She and King Robb’s bannermen are staying at Riverrun.”

_ King. That’s what Robb is now. Perhaps he can indeed rule well on the throne. _

By all accounts, the North and the Riverlands were winning battles, but not the war. They boasted several key victories, but when valuable hostages were killed, any advantage was lost. Reinforcements came in the form of more men from the Westerlands and the Reach. Tywin was beginning to turn the tides from his position in the capital.

After taking a meal with Lord Manderly, Ned pulled Barristan and Brienne aside as the Tarth soldiers were assigned rooms at the Keep.

“Lord Manderly is a trusted vassal and will keep you safe. I need to ride out at first light. My family is fighting under the assumption that I am still a prisoner in King’s Landing.”

Barristan nodded in understanding, but Brienne questioned Ned. “What of Winterfell? We could take a host of men there and remove the Greyjoys. I can’t sit here knowing that there might be some chance that wasn’t Bran and Rickon they killed.”

Ned grimaced and shook his head. “I can’t have you risk your life, Brienne. By all accounts, my boys are dead. I need to ensure that I don’t lose my last son, and I need you to stay here with Ser Barristan. I need Arya to stay here too. The ride to Riverrun will not be safe, and I can’t risk her life either.”

Brienne felt the ground sway beneath her feet. “Please, let me go north. Let me look for Bran.”

“No! Brienne, you stay here. We can’t risk losing you too. Let me better understand from Cat what is going on.”

The thought pained Brienne. In the depths of her being, Brienne knew Bran was alive. That night as she lay awake staring at the ceiling, Brienne knew what she would do. When the sun rose the next day, she smiled, and bid Lord Stark farewell. With favorable conditions, it would take Lord Stark a fortnight to get to Riverrun. Around twenty of Lord Manderly’s personal guards would play escort to Ned who was still recovering from over two moon turns in the cells. He looked thin and tired, but resolute.

At her side, Barristan watched the retreating horses as they headed west. The older knight sighed and glanced at Brienne from the corner of his eye. A small smirk tugged at Brienne’s lips when she felt him appraising her.

“We don’t have enough men.”

“I don’t imagine we’ll need many. You are Ser Barristan the Bold. I am Ser Jaime’s protégé. Spar me and I’ll show you.”

Without awaiting Barristan’s irritated reply, Brienne moved towards the yards. When she left Tarth, Brienne took a sword and Jaime’s gifted dagger. At her hip that morning, Brienne had both. 

She knew that defeating Barristan in a spar was not possible, but she didn’t need to do that. She needed to demonstrate to him that she was more than capable of fighting at his side. They had twenty of Tarth’s best soldiers, and something Theon lacked. Courage.

_ Only a craven would kill two young boys. I’ll kill him myself for what he has done to Bran and Rickon. For his sake, I hope they’re alive, though the fact may not still my blade. _

Turning around, Brienne unsheathed her sword and watched as Barristan approached uneasily. “We are staying here, Princess.”

“We are going to Winterfell. It should take a fortnight from here as it will take Lord Stark a fortnight to Riverrun. Our path is less likely to encounter enemy soldiers, and our target is less of a threat than Lord Ned’s own kin at Riverrun.”

Barristan huffed a laugh and drew his blade. “I’ll spar with you, but we are not moving north.”

_ We’ll see about that. I’ll not leave a friend behind. _

When steel met steel, Brienne’s blood sang. Sparring Ser Barristan was like fighting Ser Jaime, though far less of a natural connection.

Jaime and Barristan were both incredible fighters, but when Brienne anticipated some of Barristan’s movements, she understood why.

_ Jaime has learned by watching him. I imagine he learned by watching Ser Arthur as well. He has taken pieces of the best and made his own style. _

Barristan bested Brienne with every match, but he was working harder than he expected. He smiled and nodded with each cross of their blades.

“Ser Jaime did not embellish. Gods you’re good. Better than most knights I know. Better than the bloody Kingsguard.”

They sat panting after sparring for over an hour. Brienne glanced at Barristan and watched him smile as he gazed off in the distance.

“I have missed sparring such strong opponents. Ser Jaime did not embellish your skill. Our Kingsguard under Aerys was most impressive. Ser Arthur Dayne. Ser Gerold Hightower. Your friend there… Ser Jaime.” Barristan sighed and shook his head. “I should have looked out for him more. He was just a boy. The Keep broke him. I wish I asked him  _ why _ .”

Brienne saw her opening and took a deep breath. “Bran is just a boy. Like Ser Jaime, he was kind to me when he had no reason to be. I can’t abandon him now. Ser Jaime went back for Lady Sansa. I want to go back for Lord Bran.”

_ Ser Jaime showed me what a true knight is. I’ll make him proud as I once hoped to make Renly proud. _

Barristan exhaled loudly and ran a hand down his face. “Gods you’re stubborn.” His eyes narrowed as he looked back at the castle. “The men we’re with… tell me of them. How skilled are they? Their strengths? Their weapons of choice?”

Brienne smiled at the words. She began with Ser Endrew and then described the rest. It was a battle they could win, and she couldn’t rest until it was done. According to rumors shared by Lord Manderly, Theon had taken Winterfell with roughly thirty men and continued to hold the castle while fighting raged to the south.

With a grunt, Barristan stood and extended a hand towards Brienne. “I fought beside my prince once. I’ll fight beside my princess now. Come on. Lets gather the men. We’ve a long ride ahead of us. I’ll ask that Lord Manderly watch over Arya until her father returns.”


	25. Littlefinger III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Littlefinger plots leading up to Joffrey's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! Posting this and the Jaime POV (chapter 26). The Jaime POV will be added in an hour or so after I finish editing.

Under the cover of night, Littlefinger’s ship was anchored off the shore in the Blackwater. The waves lapped against the ship’s frame and gave the false sense of calm. In the distance, the day’s events had been anything but. 

The wedding was to take place that afternoon. Littlefinger knew that the city would bar the gates after the king’s death. Soon, the fool would arrive at the ship with Sansa. Pacing the deck, Littlefinger heard a rowboat approach.

Moving quickly to the railing, Littlefinger’s eyes greedily searched the boat. Only the fool was visible and Littlefinger snarled at the man.

“Where is the girl!?”

“My lord, she wasn’t there. Lord Tywin was enraged at the feast. Neither of his sons, Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella, nor Lady Sansa were present.”

Littlefinger felt his stomach drop. His mind went into a panic as he considered the impact to his plans. 

“And the king?”

The fool’s head shook in denial. “Alive, my lord. They didn’t have the necklace.” 

Littlefinger had to bite back a scream. He had lost it all. His plans were foiled and now he only had one option remaining. Glancing to the bow of the ship, Llittlefinger knew that he must set sail for Essos to find the Targaryens.

  
  


_ Six weeks prior _

Secretive words and shared plans were made between Littlefinger and Olenna. They would poison Joffrey on his wedding day. In the chaos, Littlefinger would steal away with Sansa; his prize to deliver to Catelyn. With Ned Stark in the cells, the Lannisters were certain to kill the Stark patriarch at any point. 

Littlefinger would appear the hero to Catelyn. While he would pretend at doing all he could to save Ned, Littlefinger would bring Catelyn her beloved daughter. If by that point Catelyn was dead, Littlefinger would make do with the pretty little girl who looked as Catelyn did in youth.

_ Sansa will grow to love me in time. She’ll see me in ways that Catelyn never tried. _

Littlefinger would take sanctuary in the Vale. It was the place of his birth and seat of his protector; Lysa. The younger Tully sister would make a temporary bride. He would rule the Vale through her, but remove Lysa when the time came. Then he would claim his child-bride and make her a Baelish. Together, they would rule the Vale and someday, the kingdoms.

House Baratheon had already killed themselves off by warring over the crown. Now Littlefinger expected that House Stark and House Lannister would decimate one another. The crown’s claim was already weakened, and Baelish would work to spread the truth of the false king.

The plan was simple. Poison had been secured and deposited into a necklace that Sansa would wear to the wedding. Lady Olenna sought to marry her granddaughter to the more manipulatable prince; Tommen. The Tyrell matriarch would see Sansa blamed, but Baelish would remove the girl from the city instead. 

Baelish made his way through the Keep and towards Tywin’s study. There was one final step to his plan that would require the crown’s support. With a knock to the study door, Littlefinger awaited Tywin’s command to enter. 

Baelish entered the study and met Tywin’s unimpressed stare. “What can I do for your Lord Baelish?”

“I beg the blessing of the crown for a match that would, regrettably, see me leave the city and the small council.”

The words caught Tywin’s attention. The older lord placed down his quill and appraised Petyr. “What match would this be?”

“Lady Lysa formerly of House Tully. Now that Lord Arryn has passed, Lady Lysa finds herself a widow and through our marriage, I will bring you the Vale.”

“No.” Tywin’s reply was curt, and the response surprised Baelish. 

“No, my Lord Hand? I can bring the Vale to the crown against the rebel kingdoms.”

“And I’ll bring the Vale through a different match for Lady Lysa. If you wish to do your part for the crown, you can help bring us the Riverlands. I’ll award you Harrenhal and betroth you to a House befitting your station.”

Baelish’s mouth gaped slightly, but he withheld comment. With a slight bow, Baelish forced a smile to his face. “You honor me, Lord Tywin. I do fear that Lady Lysa may be an unwilling bride. She has been in love with me since our youth, but I will do my part.”

_ I’ll use her love to keep her loyal. It matters little whatever match Tywin tries to force.  _

A moon turn later, everything began to fall apart. Ned Stark was secreted away by Ser Barristan. Whispers at the Keep claimed that the aged knight sailed across the Narrow Sea with the Tarths to treat with Daenerys Targaryen. Littlefinger knew better

Littlefinger had spies throughout the city… and the harbor. His informants spoke of the secretive effort at the harbor the morning of Ned Stark’s escape. A cloaked figure the size of a child had been taken aboard the ship before the Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard arrived. Littlefinger surmised it to be Arya when word of Ned’s escape circulated. 

At first, Littlefinger believed the rumors of the Kingslayer’s near death at the hands of Ser Barristan. Then he considered the situation. Littlefinger’s informants whispered of the Kingslayer and Lady Brienne walking hand in hand back to the castle after Renly’s wedding feast. One of Littlefinger’s spies in the Keep spoke of their dance in the hall that sme night. The newly recruited Gold Cloaks from the Stormlands japed at the Kingslayer’s defense of Lady Brienne against Ser Ronnet. 

_ He cares for her, but he didn’t stay with her? Why? What is in the city that the Kingslayer neglected to secret away? _

Then Littlefinger realized it.  _ Sansa _ . With Ned being freed and brought to Tarth, it was clear the lord wished to have  _ both _ his daughters back. 

_ What better person to secret Sansa away, than the one person the crown should trust? Jaime Lannister. _

Not long after, Littlefinger heard of Tywin’s plans to betroth the Kingslayer to Lady Lysa. Littlefinger’s plans were crumbling and his greatest obstacle was now the Kingslayer. With Ned’s escape, Littlefinger knew that Catelyn would hear the truth of his betrayal. Sansa would be Baelish’s only chance at happiness.

With the Kingslayer on his recovery bed, Littlefinger knew that the injured knight couldn’t flee the city… yet. Baelish had time to plot, but not much. He considered the situation and realized that he needed to implicate the Kingslayer, but not risk having Sansa kept under guard. Littlefinger couldn’t mention the Kingslayer’s plans to secret Sansa away when he needed her easily accessible at the king’s wedding.

Deciding on an approach, Littlefinger sought out Lord Tywin two days before Joffrey’s wedding. Knocking on the door of the Hand’s study, Littlefinger entered.

“Lord Tywin, my apologies for disturbing you, but I worry about rumors I’m hearing. I know the importance of bringing the Vale to your cause, but I fear that your son will not do that.”

Tywin’s irritation was palpable as he stood from his desk and stalked towards Baelish. “I have already denied you the hand of Lady Lysa. Speaking against my son’s commitment to his House will not aid your cause.”

“Even if your son’s loyalties are to House Tarth? He is in love with the Tarth girl, and I have reason to believe that he helped Ser Barristan secret them away…  _ if _ the Tarths did indeed flee. I have reason to believe that the Tarths are still  _ on Tarth _ .”

While Littlefinger had inquired after matters on Tarth, all his spies heard was confirmation that Ser Ronnet sat at Evenfall. That was possible, but not likely. The Kingslayer would not have sent his love across the Narrow Sea to the daughter of the very man he killed. It was more likely that the Tarths were at Evenfall and playing at Ronnet’s leadership,  _ or  _ they were headed north with Ned Stark. 

Anger laced Tywin’s tone as he spat at Baelish. “You accuse my son of treason and moving against his House. Did you not see the hole in his gut when he returned to the city?”

“I don’t believe he wishes to wage war with his own House, but he loves the girl. His affections have been obvious to all. He danced with her at Renly’s feast. He spent that same night with her. Castle staff saw them walking hand in hand to her room. The Gold Cloaks speak of his assault on Ser Ronnet in defense of the girl.”

At Littlefinger’s words, something flashed in Tywin’s eyes. Sensing an opening, Littlefinger pushed his agenda. “I imagine Ser Jaime didn’t fight you on his dismissal from the Kingsguard? Odd considering how hard he has fought to remain a Kingsguard all these years… even after Aerys. Once released, I believe he’ll go back for the girl. With your permission, I’ll sail to Tarth and investigate the matter myself. At the sight of your bannermen and sails, the island would protect their Evenstar and his heir. I’ll do so quietly so as not to make a scene. I can move in secret through the island and find out the truth of what happened. I can then bring you the Vale by wedding Lady Lysa. If rumors of the Tarth girl’s lineage are true, you would control the only remaining challenge to the throne through her marriage to Ser Jaime.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed and he considered Littlefinger. Taking a step closer, Tywin towered over Petyr and glared. “You will sail to Tarth and find out the truth of who sits at Evenfall. I will deal with my son, and you will not spread false rumors of treason. If you spread such filth about my son, it will cost you your head.”

“Of course, my lord. I regret that I won’t be able to attend King Joffrey’s wedding, but I do believe this is far more important to the realm.”

In truth, Littlefinger needed to remove himself from the city to ensure blame could not be placed on him. Surely the Kingslayer could not act before the wedding, and now Tywin would have his son monitored more closely. Littlefinger would not sail to Tarth. Instead, he would take Sansa across the Narrow Sea after Joffrey’s death. 

Littlefinger decided that he would find Daenerys Targaryen and ally himself with her. Together, they would return fire and blood to Westeros. By the time they returned from Essos, only House Stark or House Lannister would remain. With his recent effort to sow seeds of discord in House Lannister, it was far more likely that only House Stark would remain. 


	26. Jaime XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime leaves the city with more people than planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting with this and the prior chapter (Littlefinger)

The sound of the horses’ hooves meeting the hardened ground echoed off the trees. Jaime glanced back at the rest of their group. Tyrion rode atop a horse with Tommen while Sansa rode with Podrick Payne. The young squire aged two-and-ten struggled to control his mare; a most inconvenient state of affairs when attempting to place significant distance between themselves and King’s Landing. 

On Tyrion’s horse, he held Tommen firm to his chest. The young boy was asleep against Tyrion as they rode through the night. Myrcella was with Jaime on his horse. Like her brother, Myrcella was asleep and snoring lightly. 

They had ridden hard for a week and stopped infrequently for rest. Jaime wore his Kingsguard attire as was expected of him the day they fled the city; the day of Joffrey’s wedding. His hair was cut shorter than it had been in years and his face was stubbled from a week without shaving. 

_I suppose I look even less like Cersei now. She would hate it. Perfect._

A small smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he considered the events from a week prior. The day before Joffrey’s wedding, Tywin had approached Jaime as the barber gave haircuts and shaves to the Lannister brothers. 

  
  
  


_A week prior_

“Everyone out.”

At Tywin’s command, everyone began to move from the room. 

“Not you.” Tywin pinned Jaime with his gaze. The staff and Tyrion moved into the hallway without a sound as Tywin stood before Jaime with his hands clasped behind his back. When the two were alone and the door closed, Tywin stared at Jaime.

“Tomorrow will be your last day in the white cloak. Do you intend to be as difficult about your betrothal to Lady Lysa as you were about the prospective betrothal to the same woman years ago?”

Jaime huffed and shook his head. “No.”

An unimpressed hum pushed past Tywin’s lips. Abruptly, Tywin’s hand came to Jaime’s jaw. “You’re a shit liar. You will marry the Tarth girl.”

Jaime startled at the words. “What?”

“The girl. The one you feigned injury to save.”

Jaime’s heart began to beat wildly in his chest, but for Brienne, he had to act aloof. “Ah, so I _imagined_ the hole in my gut. That would have been nice to know as I spent a fortnight trying not to die.”

“Enough! I know you fancy the girl. I know of your little dance and walk under the stars at Renly’s wedding feast. I know you broke some worthless Gold Cloak’s nose to defend her. I also heard from Ser Meryn of your attention to the girl on the journey south from Winterfell. You’re hiding her. Fine. Now, you will return her to the city and marry her. The last threat to Joffrey’s crown will be under our control. I have men headed to Tarth as we speak.”

_Fuck._

Jaime swallowed thickly as Tywin’s hand clenched his jaw. “Let me be clear… you will never turn your back on our House again. You will bring us the Stormlands and I will name her father as Lord Paramount. I’ll betroth Myrcella to Lord Robin Arryn. Let Littlefinger have the mother… Lysa is useless to us if we have Jon Arryn’s son.”

It was a decisive moment for Jaime. To that point, he had merely toyed with the idea of secreting Tommen and Myrcella from the Keep. Now he realized that he must. The children were mere pawns in Tywin’s game, and it was evident that Tywin cared little for their well-being. Tywin’s insistence on using Tommen and Myrcella as leverage would only endanger them. 

Jaime maintained his lie. “I don’t love the girl and I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. I nearly died carrying out the crown’s orders. House Tarth is likely exploring the far east by now.”

Tywin rolled his eyes and released Jaime’s jaw. “Play at your game all you like. You’ll wed the girl and bring us the Stormlands. Myrcella will bring the Vale, your sister Dorne, and Joffrey the Reach.”

The next day, Jaime assigned the Kingsguard to members of the royal family. He followed the plan developed by Tyrion and prayed to the Seven that it worked. Tyrion would escort the children to the Sept. As Tommen and Sansa were betrothed, the pair were expected to ride together. The addition of Tommen’s sister into the carriage was not unusual. 

Their horse-drawn carriage was manned by Tyrion’s squire, Podrick Payne. As Lord Commander, Jaime assigned himself to lead the prince and princess to the Sept. Ser Meryn, Ser Boros, and Ser Mandon had been assigned to guard the king. The two remaining Kingsguard would guard Tywin and Cersei. 

Cersei had raged at being separated from her younger children, but Tywin insisted it was for the best. Appearance was important, and Tywin wanted Cersei to walk into the Sept on the arm of her betrothed, Prince Oberyn. Instead of moving towards the Sept, Jaime guided the carriage towards the northernmost gate. In the chaos of the day, their small group slipped out easily enough despite a few curious eyes from Gold Cloaks. No one questioned Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander, with his kin’s carriage.

Per Tyrion’s orders, Pod had prepared three horses for a long journey north just on the outskirts of the city. It was the second time in a moon turn that Jaime turned his back on his House. This time however, Jaime had kidnapped his niece and nephew. The children were confused, but they trusted Tyrion.

_“Your brother is doing horrible things and the city is growing unsafe. You heard what he did to those other children, yes? He wants to keep doing horrible things. Things that will endanger both of you if you stay. Uncle Jaime and I will take care of you. No one will hurt you on our watch.”_

The children did not question Tyrion further, but Jaime could sense their hesitance. Their kin were in the King’s Landing, and they were headed north towards the enemy. Even from Jaime’s perspective it seemed like madness.

  
  


Now as Jaime rode atop his horse, he considered the area. At the pace they were moving, their small group was just under a week out from the Crossroads. His father had left the army under Addam’s command. While Jaime trusted the man implicitly, he couldn’t ask Addam and the men to harbor them and risk of Tywin’s wrath. 

_We need to move north, but how will we get past Robb’s forces?_

Jaime sighed and tightened his grip on Myrcella. He slowed his horse to a gallop and moved beside Tyrion’s horse.

“We’ll have to try and move past both armies.”

Tyrion looked pained at the thought. “And what if we get all the way to Winterfell and only Theon Greyjoy is there?”

Jaime muttered under his breath. It worried him that Brienne was unknowingly headed into the Stranger’s arms. “Ned told me to bring Sansa to Winterfell.”

Tyrion raised a brow in reply. “Yes, we’ll I doubt he was receiving updates on the status of Winterfell from his cell. What if he and your princess’s escort are met with arrows instead of kisses?”

The thought sent Jaime into a panic. As painful as the thought was, Jaime considered that approaching Robb’s army might be the best option. They would need men to reclaim Winterfell from the Greyjoy rebels. Glancing at Sansa, Jaime questioned the girl.

“Do your vassals know what you look like? We can’t rely on the West for protection; not while my father lives. They take his orders and they’ll be looking for us.”

It was a strange thing to be trying to avoid his own bannerman, but they had little choice. Sansa considered the question and nodded slowly. 

“Even if they don’t, I’ll ensure they believe my identity. I know all the vassals and will see to it that we are brought to my brother and mother.”

_‘We’ is a bold statement. They’ll no sooner offer me water than escort me peacefully to their self-proclaimed king._

With a sigh, Jaime turned to glance at Tommen as the boy lay asleep against Tyrion. As long as the children were safe, he could tolerate a beating from the northmen. As long as he could get to Brienne, he could tolerate anything.

They rode through the night and stopped at daybreak. Jaime offered to take first watch so that the others could rest. His mind was too occupied with thoughts of Brienne and the encounter with the Northmen to come. 

They were close to the Crossroads and had successfully avoided patrols by soldiers from the Westerlands. Twice they came close to an encounter, but they put enough ground between themselves and the small patrols to avoid confrontation. 

As Pod, Sansa, and the children settled down on bedrolls to rest, Jaime poked at the small fire. They had enough provisions to last three weeks if they rationed food out well enough, but they would never make it the entire way to Winterfell. 

“Brother, what has you looking more irritable than a man outside a brothel with no coin?”

Jaime glanced at Tyrion. His little brother sat down and grimaced as he stretched out his legs. Riding a horse had always been difficult for Tyrion, and the pace Jaime set did little to soothe Tyrion’s pain. 

“I just need to get back to Brienne. It’s my duty to guard her.”

Tyrion hummed and raised a teasing brow. “Your duty… or your desire?”

The accuracy of Tyrion’s comment irked Jaime. Of course, Jaime dreamed of protecting Brienne in ways beyond that of a Kingsguard. He longed to drape his House cloak over her shoulders and protect her as a lord husband would his lady wife. 

Ironically, it was Jaime’s past pursuit of false love for Cersei that led to his inability to chase true love. He was a Kingsguard and had as much chance of marrying Brienne as he had surviving a war against his House.

“My desires don’t matter. I’ve a white cloak at my back in case you haven’t noticed.”

Tyrion nodded slightly, but tilted his head in question. “What is a Kingsguard without a sovereign to guard? You walked away from the acknowledged king. I don’t know that you or Ser Barristan are considered Kingsguard at this point.”

Jaime had not truly considered the implications of his actions where it concerned the white cloak. He had only thought of the situation in terms of just and unjust. It struck him as dishonorable to kill an innocent woman simply because of her lineage, just as it would be unjust to stand beside another cruel king who had even less claim to the throne. 

The brothers spoke a while longer before Tyrion stood with great effort. He clutched his legs and groaned at the effort of standing.

“I’ve not been this sore since the whorehouse in Dorne.” At Tyrion’s words, Jaime snorted. His brother always enjoyed sampling the locale flavors when traveling to other kingdoms. His excursion to Dorne years prior proved no different. Before moving towards the sleeping group, Tyrion’s mirth faded and a genuine smile stretched across his face.

“When we get to her, fight for her. Fight for her as you would a Kingsguard defending his sovereign, and as a man seeking her hand. You saved her life by moving against our House. Perhaps she can save yours by joining it.”

Jaime had told Tyrion of the conversation with Tywin from the night before Joffrey’s wedding. While Jaime was willing to break from his House by taking Myrcella and Tommen away and staying at Brienne’s side, he was unwilling to do as his father asked. He didn’t trust Tywin to ensure Brienne’s safety. As long as Cersei lived and Joffrey was on the throne, Jaime knew that Brienne would never be safe.

Despite that, Tyrion believed that Tywin would find a way to keep them safe. Jaime was the heir that Tywin refused to be without. After telling Tyrion of the conversation with Tywin before the wedding, Tyrion had sighed.

_‘You are father’s heir, and now he sees a way to get what he wants. He’ll have his legacy and secure Joffrey on the throne. It matters little what Joffrey and Cersei want, father will not let them near her.’_

Jaime wanted to believe Tyrion, but he couldn’t. As selfish as he wanted to be, Jaime couldn’t risk Brienne’s life. Cersei could be unpredictable and unhinged when enraged. The actions she took against innocent babes just over a moon turn ago disgusted Jaime. 

For three hours, Jaime stared into the flames and thought about how much he had ruined by laying with Cersei. He ruined his own life. He risked the lives of their children. He caused a war to breakout across the kingdoms. 

Before the self-loathing spiraled to unbearable levels, a hand shook Jaime from his thoughts. Podrick stood over him looking as well-rested as anyone could on three hours of sleep. The young man had a wide smile and a youthful innocence to him.

“I’ll take watch, my lord.”

Jaime chuckled at the young squire and looked at him with narrowed eyes. The boy had no weapons on his person, though Jaime didn’t imagine he knew how to wield one. “And will you defend us from being overrun by using your charm or a stern reprimand? Go back to sleep. I’ll keep watch a while longer.”

Pod swallowed thickly and glanced back at the group. “Lord Tyrion said…”

Jaime cut the boy off quickly; his tone brokering no argument. “A lot of things. Talking is what he does best. I prefer to let my sword speak for me. Go back to sleep. We’ll ride out soon.”

The next days passed in a blur. As agreed upon, they rode at night and took rest during the day. It was safer to travel when the warring armies took rest. Tyrion took shifts with Jaime given they were the only two remotely capable of defending their small group which was comprised mostly of children. Then the day came when their group came upon the outskirts of Robb Stark’s camp. A lookout noted their approach and alerted his contingent. 

Glancing at Sansa, Jaime saw the young wolf situp straight from atop her horse. Her eyes were as cool as the Northern climate. When the men approached, she spoke commandingly as her eyes appraised the men and sigils at their breast. 

“House Hornwood. Bring us to my brother, King Robb. My escort has ridden hard from King’s Landing. Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion have freed me, and we must speak with my kin.”

The men eyed the group warily. One of the soldiers narrowed his eyes at Jaime before speaking to Sansa. “Lady Sansa. I can’t let ya friends walk freely through the camp. Not with the Kingslayer at ya back. He likely has his men waitin’ to attack.”

The men moved aggressively towards Jaime and Tyrion, but Sansa cried out. “Perhaps you did not hear me, but Ser Jaime, Lord Tyrion, and Podrick saved me from the city. If the crown marches at our back, it is because they come for him. You will not arrest them!”

Jaime glared at the man approaching his horse. The soldier hesitated and glanced back at his group. With a heavy sigh, Jaime considered the situation. They had children with them and despite that, the Northmen still would not trust the Kingslayer.

“If it makes you feel better, feel free to chain me. I can assure you… it won’t save your life if I decide to thrust muy blade into your gut. Just keep the children unchained. They’ve done you no harm.”

The compromise appeased the soldiers. Sansa took Tommen and Myrcella into her care as the men chained Jaime. The other men were afforded the same treatment as their group was guided into the middle of the camp. 

Sansa held the hands of Tommen and Myrcella. The children were frightened at the shouts of the Northmen at the arrival of Lannisters to the encampment. At the guard’s side, Sansa spoke commandingly once more.

“These men will be afforded proper tents while we await my family. If any harm befalls them, I’ll tell my brother and mother that you’ve harmed me.”

The men startled at the words and a small smirk spread across Jaime’s face. While Sansa still seemed hesitant about Jaime, she had a strong friendship with Tyrion. Jaime imagined it was built over moons of shared torture at the hands of Cersei and Joffrey.

Their group was guided towards a tent and despite the improved accommodations, guards were stationed outside as though they were captured soldiers from the enemy encampment. The men brought food and drink to the tent, but Jaime was most grateful for Sansa distracting Tommen and Myrcella from the situation.

Soon, a more senior commander entered the tent. His eyes went wide as he took in the tent’s occupants. “Lady Sansa, I couldn't believe it when the men told me. We’re pleased to have you back.”

Sansa stood and greeted the man. “Lord Glover, it’s good to see you. I was secreted from the city by Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion with the help of Lord Tyrion’s squire, Podrick.”

“Are those… the princess and prince?”

Sansa’s eyes darted to Tommen and Myrcella at the question. “They were no safer in the city than I was. They’re not to be separated from their _uncles._ ”

Sansa emphasized the word ‘uncles’ before her House’s vassal. The message was clear. Do not raise the children’s legitimacy before them. Jaime was grateful for the words. He did not want the children to hear the truth of it from angry soldiers opposing the crown. 

With a heavy sigh, the lord nodded. “Aye, they’ll be kept here with all of you. I’ll send word to Riverrun.”

_Riverrun. Seven hells. We’ll be stuck here for near a week._

Jaime grumbled at the words, but bit his lip. As Sansa finished speaking with Lord Glover, Jaime looked at Tyrion. His expression was clear. _I’m not staying in this shit tent for days on end._

When Lord Glover left, Tyrion leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. “Don’t you dare. You need an army to rescue your princess. You can’t kill every last Greyjoy by yourself.”

“Watch me! I’ll not sit here for days while Lady Stark and her son slowly make their way from the castle of rotting fish.”

Sansa huffed and cast an unamused look at Jaime. “Those rotten fish are the best chance you have at keeping Brienne safe. House Stark and House Tully will not let harm befall her.”

“Oh? And what of your father? He moves north with them too. What happens when he gets a rather cold welcome home? Days can cost lives!”

“And it can save lives.” Tyrion spoke urgently at Jaime’s side. “Don’t do anything stupid, Jaime. Just a few days and then you’ll be back at her side.”

A small smile formed at the corner of Myrcella’s lips. “Uncle Jaime. Are you finally a love?”

_Oh gods._

A loud snort from Tyrion caught Jaime’s attention, but the younger Lannister put up an apologetic hand and bit his tongue. While Tyrion and Sansa tried to hide their laughter, Jaime could do little more than cringe. He took a deep breath and met Myrcella’s innocent eyes.

“I’m a Kingsguard, Myrcella. It is my duty to protect the woman we’re headed north for.”

“Why? She isn’t the queen. Mother is.” Tommen spoke inquisitively at his sister’s side. 

“This gets better and better.” Tyrion was enjoying Jaime’s plight far too much for his liking. With a warning look at his brother, Jaime shook his head before looking back at the children and forcing a smile.

“No, Joffrey is king and now Lady Margaery is his queen. Still… the woman I am to guard is a queen’s daughter. Queen Rhaella’s daughter. Joffrey wants her dead because of it, but she is a good person and has done him no harm.”

Myrcella’s face fell at the words. “Like the other children. He’s afraid of them because they’re bastards… like everyone says we are.”

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly. A silent plea to Tyrion was all Jaime could muster. Always the quick thinker, Tyrion interjected. He neither lied nor spoke truly.

“House Targaryen ruled for nearly three hundred years. They united the kingdoms. Even if Aerys was a deplorable king, his House is what defined the kingdoms as they exist today. Change can be overwhelming to people. It isn’t uncommon that at the death of the man who overthrew three hundred years of leadership, men would seek to lay claim of their own. Lady Brienne does not want the crown nor does she have birthright to it, but her existence makes your brother frightened. He fears another rebellion as your Uncle Stannis waged. It isn’t a fair way to respond, but he is lashing out. We need to protect Lady Brienne.”

The children nodded in understanding and, much to Jaime’s relief, dropped the subject. He knew the day would come where he should be honest, but sitting in chains in the middle of the enemy encampment was hardly the day. 

It took two days before anyone entered the tent to do more than offer food and drink. At dawn two days after Lord Glover entered the tent, he returned with men at his back. Jaime was yanked to his feet and uncuffed hastily. 

At the question in his eyes, Lord Glover only nodded and looked uneasily at the group. “A raven returned from Riverrun. King Robb and his escort will be here in a few more days. He rides with Lady Stark… and Lord Stark.”

Sansa smiled widely; her eyes darting to Jaime and Tyrion. “He’s well then! He’s with mother!”

“Aye. He said the Kingsla… Ser Jaime freed him and brought him to Tarth. That he went back to the city for you, and if anyone harms this group, our heads will roll all the way to the Wall.”

Jaime raised a brow at Lord Glover and hummed in amusement. “I’d prefer meat with supper tonight. I’m a bit sick of that slop your men keep dropping off. I’d hate for any harm to befall my stomach after all. Your head looks better atop your shoulders.”


	27. Catelyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn is at Riverrun and reflecting on everything going on around her. Then she gets a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline note: This chapter takes place at the same time as the prior chapter Jaime POV - Chapter 26).
> 
> This will be a triple posting day. The first two chapters (Catelyn POV and Bran POV) are going up at the same time. The third chapter (Brienne POV - chapter 29) will go up in the next few hours once I have time to edit.

Catelyn held her breath and let her body sink under the bathwater. The water was warm and soothing, massaging away the tension of recent moons. Unlike Robb who fought with his sword, Catelyn was fighting with words and strategy. Of late, nothing had gone as planned.

Six weeks ago, word arrived of Theon’s betrayal. At first, reports of Bran and Rickon were unclear. The boys were rumored missing or dead, but no concrete evidence to substantiate either claim. Not long after, another missive arrived describing the bodies assumed to be that of Bran and Rickon which were seen swaying in the courtyard; both burned to near unrecognizable levels.

Catelyn’s heart shattered at the words, but until she saw the bodies, Catelyn could not allow herself to mourn her children. It was that way for all her children now.

Arya and Sansa were in the capital; their status unknown. Bran and Rickon were presumed dead at Winterfell. Robb was alive, but losing battles both on and off the field.

After one of the harder fought battles over the past moon turn, the North and Riverlands armies found themselves with four valuable hostages. Of course, even hostages were not without their complications. Two of the hostages were Walder Frey’s grandsons; the sons of Emmon and Genna Frey.

Cleos Frey had called for surrender of his contingent that engaged Robb’s men. After laying down his sword, Cleos thrust his concealed dagger into the ear of Lord Karstark’s son, Harrion. Not many nights later, any advantage gained from the capture of Cleos and the three young squires faded away. Catelyn had raged.

_‘We had four of Tywin’s nephews! Four! We could have exchanged all four for the girls!’_

Of course, there was the matter of House Frey. Old Walder had more children and grandchildren than he knew what to do with, but the unjust death of two grandsons was an offense. To make matters worse, Robb married Talisa in secret and broke the agreement with Walder. Catelyn feared word getting back to House Frey of the broken betrothal.

_Robb fights a man’s war, but he acts more like a boy playing at knight. We needed that alliance and now we return to Walder with a broken betrothal and two dead grandsons._

Only days prior, Lord Bolton offered a solution to one of Catelyn’s plights. He had a small retainer of men at the Dreadfort that were led by his bastard, Ramsay Snow. To appease Catelyn, he offered to send word to Ramsay and have the young man lead an effort to reclaim Winterfell on behalf of House Stark. 

The offer would afford Catelyn the answers she sought in regard to Bran and Rickon, but it would also reestablish House Stark’s position. It was difficult to inspire men in a war when they couldn’t demonstrate control over their own holding.

While Roose’s offer was generous, it would not mend the offenses committed against House Frey. Catelyn considered it all as she sunk below the water’s surface.

_How do we right this wrong? How do we maintain the alliance with House Frey? Could we offer another prominent lord or lady? Should I convince Robb to set aside his new bride?_

Hours later, Catelyn found herself wandering the grounds when a squire ran to her. The boy was winded and wide-eyed. He held a missive in hand which was not yet broken. “My lady, it’s from Lord Manderly.”

Catelyn huffed and took the letter from the squire. “Breathe, child. It’s just a missive.”

“My lady, it’s addressed to Lord Stark.”

With a huff, Catelyn shook her head. “Lord Manderly is getting on in age and forgets himself. He likely meant to write ‘King’ instead of ‘Lord’. Why has this not been delivered to King Robb?”

“I can’t find him, my lady. But… Lord Manderly sent a missive not a moon ago addressed to ‘King Robb’.”

It did strike Catelyn odd, but she thought little of it. “Very well. I’ll find Robb and ensure he gets this. Thank you.”

Catelyn knew where Robb was likely to be. The men had fought and lost a difficult battle just the day prior. Many returned wounded and in need of immediate care. With few maesters to offer aid, that left Talisa tending to many. It was certain that Robb was trailing after his young wife.

Moving towards the recovery tents, it didn’t take long for Catelyn to find Robb. She approached her son slowly and watched the secretive smiles and warm looks exchanged between the newlyweds. The sight broke Catelyn’s heart.

_His love could be our undoing. He doesn’t understand._

When Robb noticed Catelyn’s approach, he offered a genuine smile. His eyes fell to the missive that Catelyn held in her hands. “Mother. What news do you bring?”

“Lord Manderly has sent word again. Though, I do think the old man forgets himself.” With a smirk, Catelyn handed Robb the letter. He scanned the address and chuckled.

“ _When_ we get father back, I will be Lord Stark and father a king.”

Catelyn gave a warning look. There should be no talk of change in titles in front of the men. They were fighting and risking their lives for Robb’s crown. Catelyn watched as Robb opened the letter and read through it. His eyes went wide, and he paled slightly.

“Mother. You need to read this.”

Taking the missive, Catelyn read through it quickly.

_Lord Stark,_

_I hope your journey to Riverrun was uneventful and that King Robb and your lady wife are well. Given the timing in which you left, it is likely this missive will arrive before you do, but I could not wait to send word. Your orders to keep Lady Brienne and the Tarth contingent guarded here were not adhered to despite my protests._

_Lady Brienne insisted on riding to Winterfell with her group and taking back the castle for you. She was convinced that Rickon and Bran are still alive, and if she delayed further, harm could befall them. I’m sorry, my lord. I tried to convince them to stay, but I at least managed to convince them to leave Lady Arya behind. She is well-guarded here and we will keep her safe until your return._

_Yours_

_Lord Manderly_

Catelyn gasped and dropped the missive as though it scolded her. _Ned. He’s free._

Tears flooded Catelyn’s eyes as she looked to Robb. Without a word, they crashed into one another in a firm embrace.

_How? How did this happen? How did he escape? Where is Sansa?_

None of Catelyn’s questions could be answered. She would need to wait for Ned’s arrival. The urge to ride out and find him along the road was overwhelming, but Catelyn knew that she had to be patient. There were too many paths that Ned could take from White Harbor to get to them. Then worry set in.

_Why is Brienne on the mainland? Why are Tarth guards with her?_

The same questions seemed to be passing through Robb’s mind. They called a war council immediately to discuss Lord Manderly’s information. Ultimately, they decided it best to keep quiet about Ned’s return. They didn’t want the crown to know where Ned was, so they couldn’t risk the men hearing of his presence in the Riverlands.

“We’ll await his return to better understand what is happening in the capital. The information contained in this missive is not to leave this room!” Robb’s command was clear, and their officers nodded in understanding. In total, half a dozen men occupied the room with Catelyn and Robb.

The next days were painful as Catelyn looked to the east. She prayed that Ned passed through the lands quickly and safely. She wondered how many men were guarding him and in what condition he was in. It took almost a fortnight until she had her answer. At daybreak, Catelyn was roused from her chambers. An escort from White Harbor approached with a cloaked figure among them.

Pushing past Robb’s men in the courtyard at Riverrun, Catelyn sobbed at the sight of Ned pushing the hood of his cloak back from his head. He appeared frail and exhausted, but alive. Tears clouded Catelyn’s vision as she ran towards her husband. Catelyn collapsed against his chest and felt an overwhelming relief wash over her.

“You’re alive. Thank the gods, you’re alive.” Catelyn clung to Ned as though a life raft. Her tears moistened his cloak as she relished the feel of his heart beating strong against her head. The courtyard faded away as Robb joined his parents in a firm embrace. As Catelyn sank into Ned, she felt his chest rumble as he spoke.

“I have much to tell you. Lets go inside. Call the officers.”

The makeshift war room at Riverrun was crammed with officers and lords as Ned leaned against the large wooden table containing a map of the battlegrounds.

“Littlefinger has betrayed us, Cat. He overheard our conversation in the capital about what Bran saw in the tower and about… Brienne. He used that information to force this war. Both Baratheon brothers are dead, as is Lady Shireen. There are no trueborn Baratheons to contest the crown, and now Joffrey is going after Tarth. They won’t stop until all threats to Joffrey’s crown are dealt with.”

Catelyn wanted to scream. The betrayal of Petyr cut deep. Her childhood friend caused a war between Houses. His scheming nearly had Ned’s head on a spike, and now the crown was moving against Tarth.

“How did you get out?” Lord Bolton stared at Ned in shock. It was the question everyone sought the answer to, including Catelyn.

“Jaime Lannister. He and Ser Barristan secreted me and Arya from the city. Ser Barristan is with Lady Brienne at White Harbor. Ser Jaime returned to the city to rescue Sansa.”

The expressions lining the faces of those assembled were as bewildered as Catelyn felt. It was her uncle, the Blackfish, who responded. The aged knight guffawed and crossed his arms; his tone disbelieving.

“The Kingslayer helped you escape and now he means to rescue your daughter? I’ll believe that when dragons circle the skies and dead men walk.”

With a heavy sigh, Ned shook his head. “Don’t call him that.”

Brynden snorted and spoke sarcastically. “No? While we’re rewriting history, shall we not name Aerys the Mad King and Aegon the Conqueror?”

Ned’s fist slammed the table. The pieces representing their forces shook on impact, and any sound in the room faded as Ned’s voice echoed off the walls. “I named him that falsely. Aerys and Aegon earned their titles of their own accord. Ser Jaime did not.”

At Catelyn’s side, Brynden’s eyes narrowed. Ned raised his head to stare at Brynden. “I was wrong. Ser Jaime saved the city from wildfire after Aerys called for its destruction. All of us there would have been dead that day. Now he’s back in that Keep after betraying his own House and trying to save my daughter. He’ll take Sansa to Winterfell until our return. As to Lady Brienne… we need to keep her safe.”

Catelyn’s eyes went wide at the information. She glanced to Robb; her mouth ajar from shock.

“Father… word arrived from Lord Manderly while you were traveling. Lady Brienne and her guards are moving towards Winterfell. She intends to reclaim it from House Greyjoy on behalf of our House. Why is the crown after Lady Brienne?”

Lord Bolton glanced at Catelyn as confusion clouded his eyes. “I already sent word to Ramsay. They’re likely to arrive at the same time or not long after Lady Brienne’s group. I’ll ride out immediately and see to it that Lady Brienne and her escort are protected after Winterfell is reclaimed. Ramasy won’t know what to make of them.”

Catelyn looked to Ned. His eyes were filled with guilt and he shook his head. “I need to speak with my family and House Tully alone please.”

At Ned’s words, Robb had the officers and lords clear out. Aside from Robb and Catelyn, only Edmure and Brynden remained. Ned glanced around the room and collapsed into a chair.

“We need to be careful with our next move. Brienne is Rhaella Targaryen’s daughter by Selwyn. Cat and I have been safeguarding this secret for years, but we’ve done a shit job at it. If Littlefinger and the crown know, it’s only a matter of time before all the bloody kingdoms know. They’ll not stop until she is dead. Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime intend to protect her, but she won’t be safe anywhere so long as the Joffrey hold the crown.”

Brynden walked to the window and grumbled. “What a fucking day. Jaime Lannister is now a hero. Brienne Tarth is a bastard princess. Barristan Selmy has turned on his king. Seven help us all. The dragons are sure to be flying somewhere by now.”

Moving towards Ned, Catelyn grabbed his shoulder. They shared a sorrowful look before she spoke. “We have to keep fighting. It’s the only way to protect her now.”

Robb huffed a small laugh from across the table. A strange smile tugged at his lips. “A secret Targaryen with a line to Ser Duncan. At least I feel better about her kicking my ass in the yards. We’ll fight for her. She’ll be queen by conquest if not birthright.”

Catelyn’s eyes went wide. “No, Robb. That girl will want _nothing_ to do with the throne. Her father can barely get her to take on the running of Tarth when he dies.”

Robb sighed and leaned over the table. “Then who else? If we defeat the crown, who will sit on the throne? I certainly won’t.”

The question was fair, and Catelyn knew they would need a plan for what came after their rebellion. Glancing at Ned, Catelyn noticed him struggling with something. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it.

A heavy silence fell over the room before Catelyn felt her uncle back at her side. “I’d rather have a Tarth on the throne than a Lannister hiding behind a Baratheon name. King Robb, this is your decision. These are your forces that follow your orders. They named you king, and now you must declare for a sovereign to fight for if not yourself.”

Robb nodded and looked to his parents with a newfound confidence. “We fight for Queen Brienne. I know of no other heir, nor do I wish to rule by conquest. I fought for my father’s release, and now he is returned to us. If Ser Jaime upholds his words to my father, our House will be reunited. We fight to keep Brienne safe.”

Catelyn closed her eyes and sighed. She knew it was for the best, but it would not be well-received by Brienne or Selwyn.

_I suppose it's fitting she has Ser Barristan with her. He is a Queensguard now._

Brienne would be their best option to rally the men around, and she could bring them the Stormlands. While the council would need to develop a new strategy, they would also need to consider other opportunities for alliance. 

A week passed and debate raged. As they stood in the war room, Robb and Ned stood shoulder to shoulder.

“The crown has the West and the Reach. Their armies alone are greater in number than all other kingdoms. The Stormlands’ forces are licking their wounds, but back under control of the crown. Dorne is likely to ally with the crown given our informants’ word of the betrothal between Cersei and Oberyn. We need the Vale if we are to stand a chance.”

Catelyn nodded and appraised the board. “I can speak with my sister, but I’m leery of her response. She has always been infatuated with Petyr, and I fear what he has told her.”

They considered a plan for some time before a knock came at the door. One of the squires walked inside uneasily with a missive in hand. “From the Neck, your… Grace…”

Catelyn bit back a laugh at the squire’s uncertainty. Since Ned’s return, the men seemed uncertain about what to call Robb and Ned. Catelyn watched as Robb smiled and took the missive. He read aloud to the group.

“It’s from Lord Glover. He writes, ‘Your Grace, today our men captured the Kingslayer, Lord Tyrion, Princess Myrcella, Prince Tommen, and Lord Tyrion’s squire. They had Lady Sansa with them, and she claims to have been aided by the group. We’ve chained the men for now and placed them in a guarded tent. At your word, we will deal with them accordingly’.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Brynden’s voice was but a whisper at Catelyn’s side. A small smile tugged at his lips when she glanced at him.

Catelyn felt the tension leave her body at the news. A wordless expression of relief passed between Catelyn and Ned. With a nod to the squire, Ned spoke commandingly.

“Fetch a parchment and quill. We need to get word to Lord Glover immediately.”

The squire moved to a corner table and procured the requested items. Ned began to write quickly as Robb leaned over his shoulder and spoke in hushed tones. When they finished, Ned folded and sealed the parchment before addressing the group.

“Our enemy is not House Lannister; it is the crown. Cersei and the false king, Joffrey, must be removed from power. Any man in this army seeking to harm the Lannister brothers, Tommen, Myrcella, or their men, will answer to House Stark.”

Brynden hummed in agreement and leaned over the table. “We’re no longer fighting for King Robb. We’re fighting for Queen Brienne. Surely some of the Stormlands vassals would join our cause when the time comes. What of the West?”

Robb’s brows furrowed. “The West? The Lannisters sit on the throne and we’re currently fighting the West.”

“Yes, well that was when they were a House united. As your father said, we are not at war with House Lannister when Tywin Lannister’s sons sit in our encampment aiding our cause. With Ser Jaime intending to guard our chosen queen, perhaps he can sway some of the West’s bannermen; neutralize them if not bring them to our cause. Would they try to kill Tywin’s heir? Can you imagine their conundrum when Ser Jaime rides _against_ them in battle?”

“He isn’t heir. He’s a Kingsguard.” Edmure huffed from across the table; the reaction provoking Brynden’s ire.

“Tell me, nephew, will the West see Ser Jaime fighting against them… against the king… and still think of him as _merely_ a Kingsguard? Tywin Lannister has been trying to get his son removed from that Kingsguard for years. I saw Tywin’s displeasure when Aerys had the boy take his vows, and I saw Tywin’s frustration when he stayed in the Kingsguard after Robert pardoned him. If Tywin wasn’t seething at his son’s betrayal, he may well be throwing a feast at this turn of events. Ser Jaime is not our prisoner, but he is now our leverage.”

Ned shook his head and replied sternly. “We will not use Ser Jaime as a political piece. I can’t ask him to fight the West or his kin. He and Ser Barristan intend to guard Lady Brienne and nothing more.”

“Queen Brienne. To protect her they _must_ fight the crown.” Brynden stared at Ned as he spoke. “Ask Ser Jaime to treat with them. Ask him what Lord Tywin wants. Lord Tywin’s son has effectively resigned from the Kingsguard in a rather dramatic fashion. That would mean that Tywin has his heir back. Perhaps we can come to terms.”

Catelyn sighed and shook her head in reply. “Tywin Lannister will not forfeit the throne. He rules through Joffrey now.”

Ned considered the words. “He didn’t look in control when Joffrey called for my head and demanded the Tarths be brought to justice. I’ll not ask Ser Jaime to fight his own kin, but I’ll ask him to consider corresponding with his father. We never spoke of him bringing Tommen and Myrcella north. Surely something has changed that he thinks they’re safer in an enemy encampment than at the Red Keep. We need to go speak with him.”

Catelyn watched as the room cleared out. Something in Ned’s eyes made her take pause. Rounding the table, Catelyn placed a warm hand on Ned’s cheek. The feel of his skin against hers was a sensation that Catelyn had feared never feeling again.

“What’s wrong?”

Ned sighed and shook his head. He watched as everyone left the room slowly; the door closing firmly behind the last man.

“We swore to protect Brienne and nearly got her killed. Now our armies march for her. The girl doesn’t even want to attend court at Tarth. She’ll be miserable in this.”

Catelyn sighed and sat down in the chair. She knew Ned’s words to be true, but it seemed they had little choice. There had to be someone to claim the crown if they won. There had to be someone to fight for.

_Who better than a sweet, unassuming girl from Tarth? Her House is well-respected in the Stormlands. She’s Rhaella’s daughter; the best of the Targaryen line without the worst. Aerys._

“Cat. I…” Ned stopped talking and shook his head. Something flashed in his eyes that Catelyn couldn’t read. “I’m tired. We have a long day of riding ahead of us. Lets get back to Sansa.”

Ned smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of Catelyn’s head. As welcome as the feeling was, Catelyn couldn’t help but feel that he was leaving something unsaid. Tired of secrets and words left unspoken, Catelyn reached up for Ned’s face and studied him. 

“We’ve known each other too long to pretend at anything. What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s… complicated.” Ned’s voice was weary as he took the seat next to her. His eyes were haunted as he stared at the table and took a deep breath.

“I’ve kept something from you for many years. I want you to know how sorry I am for it, but I had to lie for the same reason we couldn’t speak of Brienne’s lineage.”

The words startled Catelyn. She tilted her in question and searched Ned’s eyes. He exhaled and looked away briefly before glancing back at Catelyn.

“I have always been true to you. _Always_. Jon isn’t my son. He’s the son of my sister.”

The room seemed to spin at the words and Catelyn grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. Trying to swallow down the shock, Catelyn took a deep breath. Ned continued talking; his voice seemed distant and foreign. 

“When I arrived in Dorne, Lyanna delivered Rhaegar’s babe. She named him Aegon Targaryen; a trueborn son after Rhaegar had his marriage to Elia absolved.”

Catelyn buried her face in her hands. A wave of conflicting emotions crested over her; anger, betrayal, relief, guilt, and confusion.

“How could you not tell me this?”

Ned sighed at Catelyn’s question. “Look what happened when our other secret was discussed. I swore to Lyanna that I would keep Jon safe. Robert would have killed Jon just as he would have killed Brienne; just as the crown killed Robert’s bastards. There is danger in a king’s blood.”

“You let me think you untrue for all these years. It tormented me. I could have loved that boy as a nephew, Ned! Instead, I treated him cruelly as a bitter woman who felt betrayed by her husband. I shunned him.”

Anger at Ned dueled for dominance over guilt for Jon. Ned reached out to grab Catelyn’s arm; the touch eliciting a sob from her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Cat. I truly never wanted to hurt you in this. I only meant to save the boy and keep an oath to my sister. It has haunted me for years.”

Catelyn took a deep breath. “What do we do?”

“For now, lets keep this between us. I wish to speak with Brienne first. We don’t know where Jon is or if he is alive. I was a fool for thinking him safe at the Wall. If we can’t find him, it must be Brienne. Lets not confuse the men by raising this now.”

Catelyn nodded, but the pain of Ned’s lie burned deep. No good came from secrets; their current situation proved evidence enough of that fact.


	28. Bran IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran moves north and his visions are growing stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple posting day. This and the prior chapter (Catelyn I POV) are posted together. The third will come later today when I get time to edit.

It was dark behind his lids and the voices called out to him in darkness. Bran found that if he reached out for a voice, he could see images to paint pictures matching the words.

A man’s voice.  _ ‘We should avoid the Twins. Your son broke his promise, though we’re uncertain if old Walder knows. _

A woman’s voice.  _ ‘We have a common enemy now. I know he helped them escape. They took my children.’ _

A man’s voice.  _ ‘Princess, we need to approach with caution. We don’t know if the rebels brought in more men. They have the advantage of the castle.’ _

A man’s voice.  _ ‘My lord, Septa Roelle is ready for you.’ _

_ Septa Roelle. I know that name. She hurt my friend. _

Bran reached out in the darkness. He followed the man’s voice that spoke of Roelle. Stumbling forward, Bran extended his arm as though reaching for something to hold onto. Other voices whispered in his ear and sought to distract him. A raven cawed from above his head and guided him towards a small light.

When Bran reached the light, he was in a room. The room was musty; likely a dungeon. Lighting was sparse as Bran moved further into the space. A woman’s back was to him, but everything was blurry as was often the case in Bran’s dreams. As Bran slowly moved forward, he saw Brienne’s father.

Selwyn Tarth stood before an older woman. Hate clouded his eyes as the woman begged and pleaded for her life. There was a noose around her neck which was tied to one of the rafters at the center of the room.

As the vision came more into focus, Bran noted that the woman was taller than she should be. She stood on a stool that raised her about three feet from the floor. The rope at her neck afforded little slack, and Bran was certain that if she slipped from the stool, she would still fail to reach the floor by two feet.

“You hurt my daughter.” Selwyn’s voice was stern and low. “Perhaps you don’t realize it because you don’t see any scars on her skin. Battle wounds are easy enough to treat. You stitch them up and they heal. The funny thing about wounds, is the physical ones heal, but the emotional ones last a lifetime. My daughter tried to sacrifice her life for a bastard king to keep his throne, all because she couldn’t see her worth… because of you.”

The woman sobbed and clutched at the rope around her neck. Her hands were bound as she struggled and scratched at the thick cords. “My lord, please. I only meant to equip her for the world. My words were not lies. Men cannot see her worth.”

Selwyn snarled at the words and with a swift kick, knocked the stool out from under her. As the stool scattered backwards into the darkness from which Bran came, Selwyn moved to Roelle’s side as her feet flailed in midair. When Selwyn stepped away, Bran realized then that the older lord had been blocking something with his body. A mirror had been set out in front of the woman.

With disgust in his eyes, Selwyn watched Roelle struggle for breath. “Your worth is in the mirror.”

The room faded away from Bran and he slipped back into darkness. A triumphant smile stretched across Bran’s face at what he saw. Only days prior in another dream, Bran saw Selwyn kill Ronnet Connington. The arrogant knight from the Stormlands had arrived on Tarth’s shores with a small group of twenty soldiers. The overly confident knight had stood at the bow of the ship on its approach. Perhaps he had not considered that his flaming red hair made him easy for the lookouts to recognize.

When Ronnet presented his paperwork to the harbormaster, the redheaded knight had not considered how Tarth might react to his new appointment. An arrogant man, Ronnet excitedly demanded horses to take him to  _ his _ castle. The smile on the harbormaster’s face was cutting. ‘Nothing would please us more, my lord.’ 

The group rode into the courtyard and were escorted into the Great Hall. When Bran had followed them inside, he was surprised at how dark the room was. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the natural light that would otherwise illuminate the space. Only a small fire going at one end of the room cast enough light to betray the room’s occupancy.

Selwyn Tarth had stepped forward from the shadows. At the sight of his monstrous frame, Ronnet paled and fell backwards to his ass.

_ ‘Welcome to Tarth.’ _

At Selwyn’s words, a plethora of arrows from the back of the room found the backs of the twenty soldiers playing escort. Only Robert and Selwyn remained. As the older lord stalked forward, he moved his left hand from behind his back. A single rose was held in his massive hand. Throwing the flower at Ronnet’s face as the knight scrambled backwards, Selwyn sneered.

_ ‘That is the only kindness you’ll receive from me. But justice? I have plenty of that to afford.’ _

Selwyn then moved his right hand from behind his back. In it, was Brienne’s morningstar. The vision had faded to blackness and only Ronnet’s screams lingered. It had been Bran’s favorite dream in weeks.

Now as Bran was back in the darkness, more voices whispered in his ears.

A boy’s voice.  _ ‘Uncle Jaime, why does Joffrey want her dead?’ _

A man’s voice.  _ ‘My lord, Tyroshi pirates! What do we do?’ _

A man’s voice. _ ‘Your traitor father teach you that!?... Or was it your whore mother?... We are the watcher’s of the wall…” _

A man’s voice.  _ ‘Ser Addam. A missive from the capital.’ _

Bran chased the voice. His heart beat wildly as he ran through the darkness. He covered his ears and blocked out the other voices. As he ran, the flickering flames of firelight drove him forward. Then, he was standing in a crimson tent.

It was the evening, and a redheaded knight wearing armor befitting a Westerlands officer reached for a missive from the timid squire at his side. Other officers stood around a table in their matching armor and stared at the redheaded man.

The knight opened the missive and scanned it quickly. A huff of laughter pushed past his lips.

“What word from the capital, Ser Addam?”

Addam looked up at the men with a smirk on his face. “Lord Tywin sends orders. It would seem the Young Lion has taken his brother, Princess Myrcella, Prince Tommen, and Lord Tyrion on a little adventure. We are to find them and return them safely to the capital. He’s likely to be with Ser Barristan and Lady Brienne Tarth.  _ All _ are to be escorted back to the city unharmed.”

One of the officers snorted and glanced around the table at those assembled. “It’s true then? He’s turned on his House. Ser Jaime has betrayed another king.”

“Watch your tongue lest you wish to offer it to the hounds for supper! You and Ser Ilyn can create your own wordless language.” The redheaded knight snapped at the man. There was a warning in his eyes and tone. 

“That is our future lord you speak of. Ser Jaime has  _ not _ turned on his House. He has turned on injustice. We all know what is happening in that city. If he turned on us, Lord Tywin would not be calling for their safe return. Is that clear?”

The men gathered nodded in understanding. Another officer spoke quietly. “Is it true… the rumors? That Tarth girl. They say she’s a secret Targaryen.”

Addam’s eyes flitted to the officer across the table from him. “It matters little in our orders, though knowing Ser Jaime as I do, he would not guard her for no reason.”

“If he has the Stark girl, they must be going to the rebel encampment. What then? What if he faces us across the battlefield?” An officer raised a challenging brow at Addam. A heavy silence fell over the tent as the men stared at Addam.

“Do you want to tell Lord Tywin that you ran his son and heir through with a sword, ser? I surely do not. And good luck trying. Ser Jaime would kill the lot of you before you had time to scream. With Ser Barristan at the Young Lion’s side, I would recommend that you run, do not walk, in the opposite direction from which they ride.”

The officers shifted awkwardly on their feet. Addam looked back at the board and pointed. “Our lookouts noted a large contingent leaving Riverrun and towards the Neck; the Young Wolf among them. Something has their attention and I would wager it is rather  _ golden _ . Follow them, but do not attack. Imagine we need new lookouts along the eastern flank. They are either dead or blind, though to the former, I doubt Ser Jaime would have killed them unless necessary. I do believe we’re to have a lull in this war. Tell the men not to get too comfortable, though.”

One of the offices snorted. “With Ser Gregor in the capital, we’ve more camp followers than before. I fear the men are already getting too comfortable.”

Addam sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “He’s the crown’s problem now. Why they would name such a beast as Lord Commander is beyond me.”

“That Keep won’t survive with two Cleganes under it. There is certain to be a death soon enough.” One of the officers chuckled at his own words. The comment elicited a sigh from Addam.

“Either a death, or a new Clegane to join our ranks here. Between the Mountain and the Hound, I’ll take the Hound. Just don’t put him on duty tending the campfires or we’ll wake up to a chill.”

The men returned to the map before them and discussed their next move. Bran listened intently at how Addam intended to divide the forces, but then the vision was gone.

Bran awoke in a sweat and looked around. The perspiration on his body met the chill in the air. As he was dragged forward on a makeshift sled that the Reed siblings made, Bran stared up at Jojen’s face. The young man smiled down at him warmly.

“Your visions are getting clearer now.”

Shaking his head. “Dreams are not visions.”

Jojen smiled and raised a challenging brow. “Visions are not dreams. What you see is true.”

Bran’s brows furrowed. “How do you know? You can’t see my dreams.”

“No, I can’t. I only know by experience. I have visions, though not as strong as yours. Yours are getting stronger the closer we get to the Wall. And now…” Jojen looked forward and smiled. “They’ll get stronger when we cross over.”

Bran followed Jojen’s eyeline. Just ahead in the distance, the Wall stretched out running east to west. Bran sucked in a deep breath at the sight of it. They had been traveling for a fortnight since Bran left Winterfell on Hodor’s back. Along the way north, they met the Reed siblings. Bran was learning much from Jojen who, like him, had visions of things that happened or would come to pass. Also like him, Jojen felt drawn to the north. He didn’t know why, but he had to escort Bran beyond the Wall.

“Hodor. Stop. I need to stretch my legs.” At Bran’s words, the sled came to a stop. Hodor moved around and leaned down to assist Bran to a standing position. Bran’s legs were getting stronger, though it would still be some time before he could stand on his own. It would be longer still until he could walk independently.

Standing with his hands clutching at Hodor’s arm, Bran stared at the Wall and smiled. A strange pull in his body drew him forward. Whether he wanted to go north of the Wall was irrelevant. He  _ had _ to.

_ I hope that Rickon, Osha, and Maester Luwin stay safe. I wish that I didn’t have to lie to them, but this is too important. I need to go north. I just wish I knew why. _


	29. Brienne VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and her group reclaim Winterfell and then receive some visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter of a triple posting day.

Brienne bent at the waist and tried to steady her breathing. Dead Greyjoys littered the ground at her feet and blood dripped from her sword. A hand came to her back and Barristan’s winded voice spoke with amusement heavy in his tone.

“Gods you’re good. I’m glad you practiced on the butcher’s pigs.”

A light laughter pushed past Brienne’s lips. The battle with the rebel Greyjoys had been short and reasonably effortless. As expected, moving north from White Harbor took a fortnight. Favorable weather aided their pathway towards Winterfell and offered clear skies the day of the attack.

They had leveraged the skill of Tarth’s archers first; the best of them was Brienne. From an incredible distance, she removed the lookout atop the battlements. When two Greyjoy soldiers rushed to investigate the man’s fall, two more of Tarth’s archers greeted their investigation with an arrow each.

By the time the fighting began outside the castle walls, the field was nearly even. Aside from a few wounds to Tarth’s soldiers, they did not lose a single man. Brienne smiled at the men when she turned to appraise them.

_ Greyjoys. As I told Ser Barristan, we’re the superior island. That was no fight and these were no soldiers. They were criminals invading an ally’s castle. _

Theon had dropped his sword when Brienne and Barristan stood before him. The defeat in his eyes was heavy as he glanced between the pair. Two of Tarth’s guards immediately bound his wrists and took him to the dungeon. Now, Maester Luwin stood before them with appreciative tears in his eyes.

“This is one tale of Ser Duncan’s lineage that I won’t mind hearing Old Nan retell.”

Before Brienne could reply, Luwin’s hands gripped her arms. “Thank you.”

Brienne nodded and spoke softly. “What of Bran and Rickon? Are the rumors true?”

“Only as true as Theon’s fabrication. When he couldn’t find the boys, he found two of similar size and put on a display so vile that the gods will shun him in this world and the next. Rickon is safe in the tunnels that run below Winterfell.”

An incredible weight lifted from Brienne’s chest. She looked to Barristan and smiled widely before inquiring after her friend. “Good. And Bran? Where is he?”

Luwin huffed and shook his head. “Stubborn as his older brother. Lord Bran insisted on going to the Wall to meet with Jon. He said that he  _ had _ to, though I hardly understand it. Hodor is with him. He’ll watch over Lord Bran and see him returned safely when they find Jon.”

A wave of disappointment hit Brienne, but she was happy that Bran was alive. With a nod, she smiled at Maester Luwin and requested his aid.

“If you don’t mind, a few of my men need treatment.”

The maester squeezed Brienne’s arm and smiled. “Of course. If I may…” Luwin looked to Ser Barristan and spoke hesitantly. “Ser Barristan, what news of Lord Stark and his daughters?”

The aged knight smiled and nodded. “Lord Stark and Lady Arya are safe. Arya is at White Harbor with Lord Manderly. Lord Stark rode out to meet with his kin. Ser Jaime will escort Lady Sansa here soon enough.”

A question shone in the maester’s eyes, but he only sighed and mumbled. “Strange days indeed. Thank you again. I’ll treat your men and inform Lord Rickon it is safe to come out now.”

As the maester moved to treat the men, Barristan sighed and appraised the castle. “You had the right of it. This was the proper thing to do. The Greyjoys have not treated the holding well. To burn innocents and pass them off as young lords…”

Brienne watched as Barristan grimaced and sucked in a deep breath. “I thought only Aerys was capable of such madness. Evil has taken root in the hearts of more men than I dared admit to myself. Leave it to Tywin’s son and Rhaella’s daughter to show me the truth of it.”

“Selwyn’s daughter.” A teasing smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. “So long as good people exist, evil cannot rule.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Barristan’s lips and sent a puff of condensation into the cool, northern air. “Lets go find the little lord. I’m certain he’s rather frightened and alone. A friendly face will soothe his fears.”

When Maester Luwin finished treating the men, he guided them into the crypts and tunnel system below the castle. Brienne was amazed by the long winding tunnels stretching in each direction.

_ Gods. One could get lost down here and spend a lifetime trying to find the way out. At least you’d die in a crypt. No need for burial. _

As Luwin’s torchlight led the way, Brienne saw Rickon curled in a ball on a woman’s lap. When their eyes met, recognition flickered across the boy’s features and he ran to Brienne.

“You’re back! Bran said you would be back!”

The words startled Brienne as she crouched down to hug the boy tightly. “I’m so glad you’re alright, Rickon. I’ll keep you safe now.”

Rickon sobbed and whispered into Brienne’s ear; his words echoing in her mind for hours after they left Rickon’s lips. “He said don’t trust the flayed man.  _ Run _ .”

For the rest of the day, Rickon refused to leave Brienne’s side. On her last trip to Winterfell, the youngest Stark seemed intimidated by her, but his regard was different now. Perhaps it was the time in the crypts with only a Wildling and maester to console him, but Rickon was much changed.

Castle staff were relieved at the removal of the Greyjoys from Winterfell, and they eagerly provided warm food and drink to Brienne, Ser Barristan, and the men from Tarth. Endrew regaled the staff with stories from their island home and charmed all the women as he did.

Brienne smiled at Goodwin’s son as he spoke. She missed her mentor and Endrew reminded her so much of the beloved knight who taught her so much. When the staff heard of their lord’s escape and return to the North, they clapped and cheered at the news. Word of Lady Arya’s safety and Lady Sansa’s looming return warmed the castle’s hall tenfold.

While they ate, Maester Luwin sent word to White Harbor and Riverrun of the successful effort by House Tarth and Ser Barristan. While word would reach Lord Manderly, Brienne was uncertain if the Starks would still be at Riverrun given Ned’s return.

For nearly a week, Brienne, Ser Barristan, and the Tarth soldiers helped repair sections of the castle destroyed by the Greyjoy occupation. The people cheered as the House Stark banner was rolled out once more along the castle walls. During that week, Brienne continued to have a small shadow in the form of Rickon Stark.

The only time Rickon extracted himself from Brienne’s leg was when she would spar with Ser Barristan, Ser Endrew, and the soldiers from Tarth. At night, Rickon curled up beside Brienne on the bed and spoke excitedly of seeing his father, mother, sister, and eldest brother.

The boy’s excitement was contagious, and Brienne could hardly suppress a smile. When his dreams were plagued by nightmares, Brienne rubbed his back and soothed him with the lullabies she learned on Tarth. Every night when he found sleep, Brienne’s mind wandered to Bran’s words of warning passed on through Rickon.

_ What does it mean? Flayed man? Run? Run where? _

Her answer came on the sixth day since they reclaimed Winterfell on behalf of House Stark. As Brienne sparred with Ser Barristan in the yards, one of Tarth’s soldiers called down from the battlements.

“Riders in the distance! I don’t know the bloody sigil, but it looks fucking awful.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed and she glanced at Barristan. The older knight raced towards the battlement and ascended the stairs. When he reached the top, Brienne saw his brows furrow. He spoke in hushed tones to the soldier from Tarth before running down the stairs towards Brienne.

“House Bolton is here.”

Nearby, Maester Luwin moved from his seat in the yards to approach the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. “They’re a Northern vassal. Surely they came for the same purpose you did.”

Barristan looked to Brienne and shook his head. “I think not Maester Luwin. Princess, didn’t Bran warn you of this? He said beware the flayed man.  _ Run _ .”

Maester called out to Rickon. “Over here young lord! Now!” Without question, Rickon moved to Luwin’s side. “You stay with Lady Brienne! Do as she says.”

Raising his head to meet Brienne’s perplexed stare, Luwin lifted Rickon into her arms. “House Bolton’s sigil is the flayed man. You must leave through the tunnels. Run to the Wall and find Jon. Gods willing, Bran will already be on his way back with aid.”

Everything happened quickly after that. Osha and Rickon led the way through the tunnels with the Tarth soldiers, Brienne, and Ser Barristan close at their backs. Brienne could feel her heart in her throat. She prayed to the gods that Luwin’s devised lie would work.

The aged maester would claim that House Cerwyn gave aid a fortnight ago and killed the Greyjoy rebels. He would say that they held Theon in the dungeons for questioning when Lord Stark returned. Brienne worried for the aged maester. He was a sweet man and much like the maester on Tarth who treated Brienne as a girl. The thought reminded Brienne of home.

As they ran through the winding tunnel system below Winterfell, Brienne thought that if she tried hard enough, she could conjure the smell of the sea air coming in over her balcony. She could hear the cries of the seagulls circling the harbor. She could see her father’s mirth-filled eyes sparkling when he watched her spar in the yards.

Long after emerging from the tunnels, Brienne marveled at how much ground they put between themselves and the castle. Brienne’s legs were fatigued, but she had to keep Rickon safe. They ran through the woods as though the enemy was at their heels. Only the sound of leaves crunching under feet and heavy breathing filled the air. On occasion, Barristan glanced back to ensure they weren’t being followed. The space around them felt peaceful despite the frenzy with which they fled.

For what felt like hours they ran without stop, and for much of that time, the men took turns carrying Rickon. The young boy didn’t shed a single tear, but he stared at Brienne as though his life was over. Her heart broke at the look in his eyes. Fear had become the boy’s norm.

As they ran, Rickon’s direwolf led the way. The massive animal unnerved Brienne, but the Stark children all had a strange bond with their respective pets. Then, Shaggydog stopped running. The direwolf turned around and snarled; his glassy eyes staring into the distance.

Without breaking eye contact from Brienne, Rickon whispered. “Flayed man.”

_ Gods. How did they find us? _

The group stopped running and Brienne shared a worried look with Barristan. The answer to Brienne’s unspoken question was answered when the distant sound of hounds filled the air around them.

“Stay here.” Barristan pinned Brienne in place with a commanding stare before running back east to the crest of the hill they just descended. It took only a moment before he returned.

“They’re on horseback. Hounds are tracking us. We’ll never outrun them.”

Endrew spoke urgently to the men. “We stay here men. We’ll cover the retreat of Ser Barristan, Lady Brienne, Osha, and Rickon.”

“No!” Brienne spoke urgently. “I won’t have you die for me. Please, take Rickon. Run to the Wall.”

Endrew began to bicker with Brienne, but Barristan interjected and spoke forcefully. “I have an idea. Endrew, assign six of your best men to take Osha and Rickon north. Keep that bloody direwolf with you. The rest of us will stay here and hold them off. There are too many and we need them to believe the lie that I’m about to give them. They can’t know of Rickon.”

At Barristan’s words, Rickon began to sob. His arms reached out for Brienne, but she clutched his face in her hands. “Rickon, I need you to be brave for me. No screaming and no crying. Stay with my men and they will bring you to your brothers. We’ll see you soon.”

Rickon’s chin quivered and he clutched at Brienne’s wrists. “Promise?”

_ I can’t. _

“I’ll never leave you. I’ll be right here.” Brienne pointed at Rickon’s chest. It was the best she could do for the boy without lying.

Without another word, Endrew assigned several men. He instructed them to cover their tracks in a nearby stream. Their group began to circle back on foot to face the incoming threat. Brienne wasn’t certain what Barristan had in mind, but she trusted him.

As their group of sixteen faced the east, they unsheathed their blades. Brienne glanced back and saw the retreating forms of the six Tarth soldiers, Osha, Rickon, and the direwolf. Based on the slope of the hill and path, they would be out of sight well before the approaching soldiers and hounds came upon them. A stream ran throughout the forest that the men used it to cover their retreat. Brienne’s group would pretend at having doubled back.

Moving towards the crest of the hill, Brienne sucked in a sharp breath at the sight before her. In the distance on horseback and led by hounds, roughly forty Bolton soldiers charged at them.

Barristan stood confident at Brienne’s side and commanded the men. “Kill as many as you can but protect Lady Brienne. Let me speak when the time comes.”

Endrew stood pressed close at Brienne’s side. “My father would be proud of the young woman you’ve become. Any other noblewoman would have fled. You’re Tarth’s finest.”

Brienne looked at Endrew and offered a proud smile. “ _ We _ are Tarth’s best. Lets show these flayed men what islanders can do.”

Endrew snorted and shook his head; his tone was light and teasing as he spoke. “You’ve spent far too much time of late with that awful Lannister. Shall we have a contest?”

With a nod, Brienne raised her blade into position. A final glance back told Brienne all she needed to know. The smaller group was well out of sight and should be safe.

The horses charged at them as though it was a joust. Tarth was more accustomed to attacks by sea where archers counted for everything and horses mattered little. Fortunately, they had Ser Barristan at their side. He spoke commandingly while staring ahead at the mounted threat.

“Drop to a knee and take out the horses. Their blades might give you a haircut, but they’ll not take off your heads.”

Doing as the renowned knight bid them, everyone spread out and dropped low as the horses and hounds approached. Blades met horses’ legs and daggers met hounds snouts. The enemy dropped before them and the fighting began. It was bloody and sloppy. Despite Brienne only having made her first kill a week prior, she already felt an expert. Her blade cut quickly and moved as Jaime taught her. She spun left and right, caring only to protect her men and the retreating group.

They were only sixteen fighting forty, but it almost felt even. More Boltons were piled dead at their feet than living opposition remained. At quick glance, Brienne could see that they had lost three men from Tarth. Rage consumed her at the thought of losing anyone and she began swinging more desperately.

Barristan felled the most men by far. The tides were turning in their favor and Brienne thought they stood a chance until she heard loud cries in the distance. Glancing to the southeast, she saw more men approaching on horseback.

What little remained of Bolton’s initial wave of soldiers backed off and formed a circle around them. Brienne counted eighteen to their thirteen.

_ Seven hells. We could have won. _

The incoming batch of soldiers flying the House Bolton flags numbered another thirty or so. Hounds nipped at the feet of Brienne’s group and held them in a tight circle. Barristan chuckled as they panted from exertion.

He spoke proudly of Tarth’s fighting while staring at the incoming threat as reinforcements approached. “Proper Stormlanders! If I had this group in the Kingsguard, I’d have little need for the bloody Gold Cloaks.” 

A smile stretched across Brienne’s face as the Tarth soldiers chuckled. They were her father’s best and chosen for a reason. These men could hold their own, but now they were held in place by painfully uneven odds.

When the additional men approached, a dangerous looking young man with dark curly hair and deadly blue eyes dismounted his horse.

“My, my, my. What do we have here?”

The man’s eyes scanned the group and a vicious smirk tugged at his lips when he noticed Barristan. “A Kingsguard? Have you lost your way old man?”

Brienne felt rage pool in her gut. On instinct, she raised her blade, but Barristan steadied her arm. “If this is the quality of your bannermen in the North, I’ll take my age and southern skill any day. You’re interfering with orders of the crown. You have no business detaining us here.”

The man took a step towards Barristan and smirked. “Orders of the crown? All I see is an ugly woman, an old knight, and some boys playing at squire.”

Barristan stepped before Brienne and straightened to full height. “I am Lord Commander of King Joffrey’s Kingsgaurd, and I am escorting the daughter of Rhaella Targaryen to the Wall per orders from his Grace. Three under the crown’s protection are now dead. If you kill or harm another in my group, the king will have all your heads.”

The cruel looking man narrowed his eyes in consideration. He tilted his head to see past Barristan and snorted. “That is Rhaella Targaryen’s daughter? I would just as soon be named the Mad King’s son.”

“Look at her necklace, you dolt. Perhaps you’re too young to recall, but that was Queen Rhaella’s pendant. I would know. I guarded her for years.”

The man appraised Brienne and raised a challenging brow. “Fascinating tale. Tell me Ser Barristan, when did the Wall start taking women?”

A smirk tugged at Barristan’s lips and he gestured to the dead at their feet. “She’s no ordinary woman. Look at your men’s blood soiling the forest floor. She’s Visenya born again, and you would do well not to challenge her.”

A snide smile stretched across the man’s face as his eyes darted between Barristan and Brienne. “Well then. Who am I to defy our king? We’ll see to it that you are afforded guest right while we await word from his Grace.”


	30. Jaime XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime awaits the Starks to arrive so that he can move north with aid. Roose is ready for them.

“Would you stop that pacing? You’re making me nervous.” Tyrion grumbled from his seat on a large tree stump at the edge of the clearing.

Jaime stopped in his tracks and glared at his younger brother. “We should be a week out from Winterfell by now! Why are we waiting in this shit camp for Ned bloody Stark and his is useless kin to arrive?”

With a longsuffering sigh, Tyrion raised a brow at Jaime. “You’re forgetting the importance of an army, brother. In case you forgot… you don’t have one.”

Jaime grumbled and sat down in a huff. In the clearing, Sansa braided Myrcella’s hair while Tommen and Pod collected rocks and discussed the merit of naming cats after knights versus lords.

Loud voices captured Jaime’s attention. He stood quickly and peered out of the woods towards the kingsroad. Riders approached the clearing and Jaime felt a wave of relief at the sight of the Starks.

_ How awful that the vision of honorable Ned now elicits relief. That is the true horror in this madness. _

“It’s about time!” Jaime began barking at Ned, but both Ned and Catelyn ignored Jaime’s complaint and ran to Sansa. They pulled the young girl into a firm embrace and fussed over her.

Jaime shook his head in frustration and approached the pair. “Hello!? We need to move out immediately!”

At Jaime’s words, Ned looked back at Jaime as though seeing him for the first time. “I thank you for returning Sansa to us, but would you care to explain to me why you’ve kidnapped your kin?”

Ignoring the question, Jaime pushed his agenda. “Yes, hello. How am I? Wonderful, thank you for asking. I need about fifty of your best men to march on Winterfell with me.”

Ned and Catelyn exchanged confused looks before Catelyn spoke to Jaime. “Fifty of our men? Why?”

“Brienne is there! You said to meet at Winterfell, but the crown received word that your shit castle fell to that delightful Greyjoy ward of yours. Brienne is likely captured or worse!”

Shaking his head, Ned put up a defensive hand. “Brienne’s group defeated the Greyjoy rebels. A rider brought word in the night just two days ago as we rode here. If House Bolton’s reinforcements haven’t arrived yet, they will soon join them and help them hold the castle.”

Any relief at hearing Brienne’s group took Winterfell faded at the mention of House Bolton. Jaime felt himself pale and his eyes darted around to appraise the mounted riders at the Starks’ back.

“I need those fifty men and possibly more. Where is Roose Bolton?”

At Jaime’s panicked state, Ned glanced back at his men before addressing Jaime. “Before word arrived of Brienne’s victory over the Greyjoy rebels, Lord Bolton journeyed north to meet with his contingent moving on Winterfell.” 

“No. No, no, no. We need to leave!” Jaime could feel his heart racing. The Boltons would either kill Brienne outright or take her to King’s Landing. Confusion riddled Ned’s face, but Tyrion spoke curtly.

“We need to speak privately. Now.” The Starks guided them to the nearest tent, and forced out its occupants. Sansa, Jaime, and Tyrion updated Ned, Catelyn, and Robb on the crown’s plans. They shared details of House Bolton’s and House Frey’s intended betrayal. At the information, the Starks looked as Jaime felt; panicked.

With a frustrated huff, Ned glanced at Robb. “Seven hells. Robb, how many men did Lord Bolton send to Winterfell?”

The young king in the North ran a hand through his hair; his brow furrowed in contemplation. “He said there was only a retainer stationed at the Dreadfort. If they kept similar numbers to the other vassals, I imagine they have 100-200 men?”

Ned grumbled under his breath. For a moment, he leaned against the table and considered their approach. “Robb, I need you to have the commanders pull 1,000 men from the armies to move north on Winterfell. Give me at least one strong commander to ride north with us. I’ll not risk a close contest for Winterfell. That leaves you almost 38,000 still healthy to carry out the plans we discussed at Riverrun. From that, take a contingent of 5,000 to the Twins under false pretense of honoring your commitment to Lord Frey. Claim the marriage with Talisa little more than camp rumors and keep that girl away from there! They’ll only let so many into the hall with Walder. Most will have to attack from outside, though the Freys will be greatly outnumbered. I’ll move north with Ser Jaime. Cat, you take a group of five hundred to the Eyrie to treat with your sister. Just be careful. We don’t know what Littlefinger has told her. I’ll have a trusted commander lead a group of five hundred to White Harbor to escort Sansa, Podrick, Tommen, and Myrcella. They’ll be safe there with Lord Manderly and Arya.”

Tyrion snorted and shook his head. “I’d be leery of what word Littlefinger may have sent your sister. Lord Baelish requested Lady Lysa’s hand, but my father betrothed her to my brother instead. The crown wants the Vale.”

“ _ Intended _ to betroth, thank you. The last thing I need is to play at goodbrother to these two.” Jaime gestured at the Starks and huffed in annoyance, but Tyrion waved him off dismissively.

“Let me accompany Lady Stark. I’m not a fighter, but I am however a strategist. I can be of aid in trying to sway Lady Lysa to our cause.”

Catelyn shook her head in refute. “No. I doubt she’ll respond well to anyone from House Lannister joining us.”

“Not even a Lannister who can tell her the truth of Littlefinger’s scheming? By  _ truth  _ of course, I mean an incredible exaggeration that will have her hating the man faster than a brothel worker can finish off her client.”

The Starks groaned in distaste but relented. Sending Tyrion afforded a unique opportunity to play Littlefinger’s game against him. Tyrion was cunning and politically minded; a true match for Baelish. 

Given Tyrion’s position on the small council, Jaime surmised that his brother collected all manner of information on Littlefinger. Tyrion’s mind worked in similar ways, and he could counter any words that Littlefinger sent to Lysa.

With the plans in place, Robb wasted no time dividing the forces. They were careful not to involve anyone from House Bolton or House Frey in the plans, and the smaller groups were sworn to silence after receiving instructions. 

To expedite the movement against House Bolton, all men in Ned’s contingent were provided horses. Matters to the north were considered the most urgent and there was no time to travel by foot.

Their group prepared to depart and Robb’s assigned commander made his way towards the front of the lines; the Blackfish. The man smirked at Ned and Jaime as he moved his horse between them. His tone dripped with sarcasm.

“This will be fun. I get the pleasure of riding north with the greatest of friends. I’m certain there will be little bickering along the way, and Ser Jaime will request many bedtime stories of the War of the Ninepenny kings.”

Brynden Tully was one of Jaime’s childhood idols. It was strange to suddenly find himself fighting beside the man, but stranger still to hear his name used rather than his moniker; Kingslayer.

_ I’m an adult now. I’ll not admit to being excited at the prospect of fighting beside the Blackfish. Of course, if somehow Barristan joins the fray with us, I may well die on the spot. _

Jaime smirked and returned Brynden’s sarcasm. “Not even one story if I’m on my best behavior?”

With little more than a snort, Brynden urged his horse forward leaving Jaime and Ned staring at each other. A teasing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips before he spoke to Ned.

“I never got to show you my new sword. Do you like it?” Jaime pushed out his hip from atop his horse. The golden hilt caught the sun’s rays making it shine in the most obnoxiously Lannister way possible.

Jaime’s smirk stretched wider as he watched Ned’s brows furrow in confusion. “Valyrian steel. I daresay it’s  _ much  _ smaller than the original, but there is a twin sword at my shit nephew’s hip..”

As realization dawned spread across Ned’s features, Jaime kicked his horse into a sprint. With a smile still etched on his face, Jaime quickly caught up to Brynden. It didn’t take long for Ned and the rest of the contingent to join them. With Brynden between them, Ned barked at Jaime.

“Have you no decency!?”

At the words, Brynden’s head snapped to Ned. “Are you talking to me?”

A satisfied hum rumbled in Jaime’s chest. “Very rude, Lord Stark. Ser Brynden has done nothing to you.”

Ned growled at Jaime from atop his horse. “You know that I’m talking to you, Jaime! Let me see it!”

Brynden was baffled as he glanced between the men while trying to maintain proper direction of his horse. While Jaime did feel terribly about the alterations to House Stark’s ancestral sword, he couldn’t resist needling Ned.

“Well that’s truly indecent! I will not show you my  _ sword _ . You’re not my type.”

Brynden’s eyes went wide. “What are the two of you on about!?”

“Ned wants to see my cock.”

“Fuck off, Jaime! I want to see the sword.” The anger radiating off Ned gave Jaime more enjoyment than he expected.

“You seem upset, Ned. Did Lady Catelyn not offer enough attention to _your_ _sword_ before we left? Perhaps that was my fault too. I was distracting her with my handsome face and charm.”

Ned’s jaw clenched in irritation, but he held his tongue. When they made camp that night, Ned approached Jaime and sat down with a grunt. His anger was palpable as Jaime sat before the campfire, staring into the flames. 

Any amusement at needling Ned earlier in the day was long gone. Sitting idle only made Jaime fret over Brienne’s safety. He had half a mind to keep riding through the night until he was outside the castle and fighting every opposing soldier to get to her.

Glancing at Ned, Jaime wordlessly unbuckled the sword belt at his hip. He handed it to Ned and muttered. “I didn’t do it.”

Ned inspected the sword and closed his eyes as though it physically pained him to look upon it. Turning his head away, Ned exhaled and muttered more to himself than Jaime.

“Over four hundred years… destroyed.”

Jaime grimaced at the words. It was of remarkable quality, but Ned’s comment rang true. Tywin destroyed the blade and the history it carried.

“I’m sorry.” It was all Jaime could offer as he stared into the flames.

At his side, Jaime heard the blade being sheathed once more. Ned extended his arm with the sword and sword belt clutched firm in his hand. The act confused Jaime and his head turned to meet Ned’s eyes.

“It’s your sword… well… half of it.”

“It has a bloody lion’s head on it! You can return it to me whole.”

Jaime snorted and rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a blacksmith to you? My father said only three living men know how to work with valyrian steel, and I can assure you that I’m not one of them.”

“Then there are three men who can fix it when the time comes. For now, use it to cut through all of Bolton’s traitorous soldiers. They have my son, Ser Barristan, and Brienne.”

Over the next few days, their contingent rode hard day and night. During the nights when the group made camp, most of the men kept to themselves. Jaime preferred it that way. He took to laying under the stars and recalling the memories formed with Brienne under the night sky. He never considered himself a religious man, but Jaime prayed to any god who would listen and beseeched them to keep her safe.

_ Ser Barristan would die defending her. She’d be safer with no other living knight in the Seven Kingdoms. _

They were days into the journey when a large shadow moved over Jaime as he lay on his back staring up at the stars. 

“Kingslayer.” Brynden Tully stared down at Jaime with a smirk on his face. His tone was light, and Jaime had never heard his moniker spoken without disdain. The inflection of Brynden’s voice  _ almost _ made the moniker sound reverent.

“Blackfish.”

Brynden snorted and unsheathed his sword. “Spar with me. I want to get the measure of the man. I hear you’re decent enough.”

Jaime had never scrambled to his feet so fast as when the Blackfish requested a spar. The Blackfish had seemed massive to Jaime when he was but a boy visiting Riverrun. Now, the man seemed of normal proportions and older than most knights looking for a fight. Even still, there was a confidence to him that reminded Jaime of Ser Barristan.

Unsheathing his sword, Jaime bit back a smile as Brynden moved into position. “Come on then, boy. Show me why everyone thinks you’re so bloody special.”

They sparred for near an hour in a small clearing near the camp. Jaime was impressed at how well the Blackfish moved, though the older knight lost each bout. Like Ser Barristan, Bryndne’s skill did not dull with time. The Blackfish had a style somewhere between Barristan’s and Brienne’s. He was neither too fluid, nor too brutish, but his cuts were confident and strong.

As they stopped for water, Brynden hummed in consideration and took a seat beside Jaime. “I can see why Ser Arthur knighted you. You’ve got potential.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “Well I’m glad that at three-and-thirty, I have potential. Gives me something to strive for.”

He had just spent the hour sparring with one of his childhood heroes, and yet the man spoke to him like he was still a lad of ten.

The Blackfish turned his head to appraise Jaime. He nodded and grunted in approval. “You surprise me. I thought you’d be more…  _ Lannister _ .”

Jaime bit back a laugh and raised a brow. “More  _ Lannister _ ?”

“Arrogant, self-serving, loathsome. You know the sort.”

A small laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips as he looked away. “Sorry to disappoint. It’s my father’s greatest grievance about me. Forever disappointing in my refusal to live up to the Lannister name.”

Brynden chuckled slightly. “He wasn’t always like that. When your mother was alive, he was different. He seemed a better man. Now he seeks to impose his will through fear. Fear is power to him. No one knows what he’ll do next, only that they don’t want to be caught on the opposite side of the field from him, but you… your sword arm is more Tygett and your humor more Gerion. Good men. Perhaps you can restore House Lannister’s honor. You’ve already restored my faith in knighthood. I was beginning to fear the significance of the title would die with my generation.”

Jaime sat in stunned silence as the Blackfish stood with a grunt. He stretched and moved wordlessly towards his tent; stopping only to pat Jaime on the head and bark at him to get some rest.

It was a few more days before they arrived at the outskirts of Winterfell. Throughout the remainder of the trip, Brynden sparred Jaime when the men stopped to rest. Both men enjoyed the challenge and comradery. Between matches, the Blackfish would offer some previously unmentioned tale from the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

While no substitute for Brienne, the sparring sessions thrilled Jaime. For the first time in his life, Jaime felt acceptance from fellow knights and recognition by his idols.

Now as Jaime sat atop his horse beside Brynden and Ned, they appraised the castle in the distance. The men were at their back and ready for war. Jaime’s Kingsguard armor shone brightly, and his White Cloak billowed in the breeze. 

House Bolton’s lookouts had likely reported their approach as a host of soldiers greeted them outside the gates. By Jaime’s estimate, some two hundred men stood at the main gates facing the kingsroad.

“Idiots. The advantage of Winterfell is staying  _ behind _ the walls when greatly outnumbered.” The Blackfish huffed and stared into the distance. Something about the situation unsettled Jaime.

“I don’t trust it. Why would they do that?” Jaime stared ahead, but he could feel both men look to him. “They have something planned.”

Ned sighed and offered a conciliatory nod “I fear you have the right of it. I don’t like how this looks.”

Commanding the men forward, Ned kept the horses at a slow trot. Three figures rode out to meet them in the middle of the field. Jaime recognized one of the men as Roose Bolton. At Ned’s command, the men held back as Ned, Brynden, and Jaime rode out to speak with Roose.

As the six men came together, Roose raised his chin and spoke to Ned. “Lord Stark, how wonderful that you’ve returned home. Quite the escort; a disgraced Kingsgaurd and aged knight. I regret to inform you, but the crown has had a change of heart over who should be Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.”

The disdain on Ned’s face mirrored the expression Jaime was usually on the receiving end of. “You turn on your own kingdom to bend to a bastard king soon to be removed from the throne.”

At Ned’s words, Roose raised a brow. “Who is going to remove our king? You’ve less than 40,000 men while the crown boasts three times that. This is not a war you can win.”

“For your sake, Rickon and Tarth’s contingent best be alive and well. Where is she, Roose?” Ned spoke sternly to Jaime’s left. The men before them seemed unmoved and Roose replied in feigned ignorance.

“Rickon? Did your wife not tell you? The Greyjoy rebels killed your sons. As to this  _ she  _ you speak of, I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific than that.”

Jaime felt his anger rising, but something occurred to him. If Roose had already killed Brienne, his army would have taunted them with it; dangled her lifeless body outside or boasted at having sent her into the Stranger’s arms. They were keeping her alive. But why? 

Then Jaime realized it. “The woman who my father demanded you bring to him.”

Something flashed in Roose’s eyes that confirmed Jaime’s suspicions. To his left, Jaime could feel Brynden and Ned staring at him. None of the men knew Tywin as Jaime did.

Jaime imagined that when the Boltons found Brienne and the group from Tarth, Roose likely wrote to Tywin like a dog bringing his master a bone. For the lands and titles bestowed upon House Bolton, Tywin had demanded Robb Stark’s head. Having failed to deliver on those terms, Roose could not fail again. If Jaime knew his father as well as he thought, there were two things Tywin wanted; Jaime to marry, and any claimant for the throne under his control.

_ ‘You’ll marry the Tarth girl and bring me the Stormlands.’ _

Jaime had turned on his House, but Tywin likely still saw political value in him. With Tywin aware of Jaime’s feelings for Brienne, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see Jaime wed off to build his legacy.

Further, Jaime knew his sister and Joffrey. They would want Brienne brought to the capital and tortured slowly. While their goal did not align with Tywin, the requirement was the same. Don’t kill Brienne in the North. They wanted her in the city.

“She’s being housed safely within. Someplace I believe you’re familiar with…” A smirk curled Roose’s lips as he pointed back towards the Keep. His arm extended to the eastern edge of the castle which was a decent distance from the assembled armies. “You want her? Go and get her.”

At the words, Jaime scanned the castle stretching out before them. He followed Roose’s hand and saw her. In the First Keep beside the Broken Tower, Bolton soldiers were leaning Brienne over the window’s edge roughly sixty feet above ground. Jaime’s heart faltered when he saw what they were doing.

Brienne had a rope around her neck which, from the distance, appeared to be secured around one of the rain-worn gargoyles adorning the old Keep. Without a word to Ned and Brynden, Jaime urged his horse into a gallop. Distantly, he could hear Ned and Brynden cursing at his back, but Jaime cared little about deviating from their plans. He had to get to Brienne before they killed her.

His eyes remained trained on Brienne as the horse surged forward. Behind him in the distance, Jaime heard the distinct sound of battle cries ring out. The sound of blades unsheathing and horses charging filled the air, but as Jaime initially thought, something was wrong.

Smoke began to billow from the other side of the castle walls. As Jaime neared the outer walls of the castle, Jaime could smell fire. Glancing behind him, Jaime was shocked to see the battlefield engulfed in flames. Archers along the battlements above the main gate had set the field ablaze.

_ Gods. They prepared the field to catch. They’ll burn all of Ned’s men. _

Screams filled the air as the allied forces of the North and Riverlands were trapped in a ring of fire. Bolton’s men pressed backwards towards the castle in anticipation as their lord barked commands near the gate.

Nearing the wall, Jaime jumped down from his horse and looked up at Brienne. Whether the men pushed Brienne, or she fell was unclear, but she was no longer being held over the windowsill. Brienne was now holding tightly to the base of the gargoyle that jutted out from the stonework about two feet below the stone ledge of the window. Panic coursed through Jaime’s body as the men laughed loudly from the window.

Jaime quickly removed his Kingsguard breastplate and pauldrons to make the climb easier. He began to scale the side of the Keep as he called out to her.

“Brienne! Hold on!” Jaime could hear the fear in his voice as he gripped the aged stones protruding from the wall. His feet and fingers desperately sought out grooves for leverage as he climbed towards Brienne. In an effort similar to what Bran had done the day he found Jaime and Cersei cavorting in the top room, Jaime ascended the tower like a man possessed.

“Jaime, no! It’s a trap! You have to get away!” Brienne’s voice was desperate. The words made Jaime take pause and appraise the situation. From what Jaime could see, there were several men pressed near the window and enjoying Brienne’s plight. The Bolton army stood at the main gate watching as Ned’s contingent desperately tried to extricate themselves from the flames.

Looking back up at Brienne their eyes met. He cared little what Roose’s game was; he had to get to her. Jaime began to climb once more despite Brienne shaking her head in protest. Even from fifty feet below her, Jaime could see that Brienne was losing her grip. The weathered gargoyle was too smooth to maintain a proper grip. 

“Try to grab the castle stones or groves, Brienne! The gargoyle is too smooth.”

Quickening his pace up the side of the wall, Jaime prayed to the Seven that Brienne could hold on long enough for him to get to her. Jaime made quick progress up the castle, but his fingers and toes were aching from the effort.

Brienne’s voice was panicked as she called down to him. “I can’t! I can’t hold on with one hand to reach out.”

Glancing up, Jaime noted the rope hanging down between Brienne’s neck and the gargoyle. The slack was roughly six feet, and Jaime considered that with another 10 feet of climbing, he could prevent her neck from snapping if she lost her grip. Then he heard one of the men bark a barely audible command.

“He’s close! Time to reel in the bait, boys.”

_ The bait. _

As Jaime lifted himself further, his feet reached a ledge of decent width that ran the circumference of the tower. Standing more securely, Jaime could just reach Brienne’s thighs with his fingertips, but her legs flailed wildly and nearly kicked his chest and face. Her toes scraped the edge of the wall as she tried to maintain her grip.

“Brienne, let go!” Jaime knew he was close enough. With his finger tucked securely into the space where mortar once occupied, Jaime’s right hand had a firm grip. The ledge under his feet gave the added support necessary to ensure a strong hold.

With a slight hesitation, Brienne’s eyes met Jaime’s. He mouthed his next words desperately. “Trust me.”

As the men began to haul Brienne back in, she let go of the gargoyle. Her hands reached forward to grip a small groove, but she couldn’t hold tightly and it only served to slow the short fall to Jaime. 

The drop was nominal, but Brienne was of Jaime’s size and the impact was worse than he expected. As her body reached him, Jaime wrapped his left arm around her body as she slid between him and the wall. 

Using every bit of strength he could muster, Jaime wedged Brienne firmly between his body and the stonework of the Keep. A searing pain shot through Jaime’s limbs from the impact. His left foot slipped from the ledge and he scrambled to maintain his hold. 

At the window, the men cursed and tried frantically to haul her in by the rope still around her neck.The noose had been placed loosely around Brienne. Jaime surmised it was likely for show rather than intent to hang her.

“Hold to the wall, Brienne!” When Jaime felt confident she had a firm enough grip, he used his left hand to remove the rope from her neck just as the last of the slack was taken by the men’s efforts at the window. 

At the rope’s removal, one of the men yelled to his comrades. “Fuckin’ hells! Now what!?”

_ Now what, indeed. _

Jaime glanced back at the field. Much of the army had made their way around the flames and were attacking the Bolton soldiers at the main gate.

Glancing at Winterfell’s outer walls, Jaime could see smoke billowing from sections of the castle within. It was clear that House Bolton had little intention to hold the castle so much as destroy it.

“Brienne, are you alright?”

Jaime’s body was pressed firmly against hers, keeping her wedged between him and the wall. With his hands and feet at each side of her body, Jaime took quick appraisal of Brienne’s physical state. Her head was scraped badly from the short fall and her knuckles were bleeding. Anger coursed through Jaime as he noted the bruise at her eye and neck.

Uncertainty laced Brienne’s tone as she put her forehead against the Keep’s wall. “Yes, though I don’t know how long I can hold.”

Loud voices carried out from the window above. “We’re not gunna kill ya! Climb up! We’ll pull ya in.”

Jaime snorted at the words.  _ Sounds reasonable. I think I’ll stay here. _

Frantic footsteps and an angry voice filled the room just a few feet above the heads. Jaime recognized the man’s voice immediately.  _ Roose. _

“What are you idiots doing! You were to use her as bait to lure him to the castle, and then send the signal to the mounted contingent. He was not to climb up after her! If they fall, Tywin will have our heads!”

Jaime glanced up in time to see Roose lean out from the window and peer down at them. “We’re under strict orders to take you to the capital. You have my word that no harm will befall you. Climb up.”

A loud laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Nothing is more assuring of that fact than putting a noose around her neck and dangling her from the side of the castle. I think we’ll take our chances with the ground, thank you.”

Roose cursed and barked at one of his men. “Where is the contingent at the northern gate!? Why have they not been signaled!”

_ Ah. They were planning an escape once they captured us. Wonderful. _

“M’lord, Ramsay said to dangle her and…”

“Ramsay is not lord. I gave you the orders and now look at what your childish games have done.”

Glancing to the field, Jaime could see Ned’s group making quick work of the men at the main gates. Roughly one-third of Ned’s army was dead in the flames, but they still had more than enough to overrun the limited ground forces of House Bolton.

Jaime chuckled again at the absurdity of the situation. “Did you expect to outrun Lord Stark’s cavalry too? This seems rather poorly planned, Lord Bolton. Your flayed men are about to become dead men.”

Jaime’s chest rumbled with laughter at the absurdity of it all. His cheek pressed against Brienne’s and the both panted from the exertion. Neither moved to descend nor ascend. They were frozen in place; the climb down too dangerous, and the climb up blocked by the enemy.

As relieved as Jaime was to see their forces winning the battle, his arms and legs were beginning to fatigue and tremble. He thought it might be easier to move right or left than down, but no direction seemed safe from encountering Bolton soldiers.

Unable to wait any longer, Roose cursed and moved away from the window. Jaime could hear him directing his men in what was a clear order of self-sacrifice. “Stay here and make sure they don’t try to climb back up! I need the archers to take out their legs. We’ll have to catch them.”

_ Shoot us down? Catch us? From this height? Bloody dolt. We’ll all be dead from the impact. _

“But m’lord… the retreat.”

The soldier’s words were not granted response. A momentary silence fell over them as Jaime’s body remained pressed closely to Brienne’s.

Brienne rested her head against the wall and groaned. “Shoot us down. Lovely.”

“Don’t worry, princess. I have our lucky coin.” At Jaime’s words, Brienne chuckled lightly; a smile tugging at her lips.

The sight of her smile almost allowed Jaime to ignore the fact that they were hanging precariously from the side of a tower some fifty feet in the air. “Nothing good comes from being near this bloody Keep. If I never see it again, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

Jaime watched as two soldiers leaned out from the window to take appraisal of the battle outside. One of the men glanced down and huffed.

Jaime’s fingers and legs couldn’t hold on much longer and he imagined Brienne felt the same. Turning his head, Jaime pressed his lips against her ear and whispered.

“I’m going to move along the right side and into the first window I reach. I can take those dolts out. Can you hold on until then?”

Brienne nodded slightly in affirmation and Jaime slowly began to move to the right.

“Fuck! Where’s he goin’!? Where’s the next room at that level!?”

Jaime knew he had to move faster, but his body was in agony. The drop was certain death and Jaime tried not to think on it. In the distance, Jaime could hear the approaching horses of House Bolton’s hidden contingent. Moving faster, Jaime finally came to a window. His heart beat wildly as he tried to maneuver himself up slightly to reach the ledge. When he stepped inside, Jaime took a moment to shake out his arms. 

Jaime’s limbs were burning from the effort, but he had to get to Brienne quickly. Jaime unsheathed his sword and began his ascent to the next level. He was immediately met by the soldiers that Roose left behind. The men were poorly trained and fell to his blade easily; more brawlers than soldiers.

Running to the next level, Jaime found the room the men had been stationed in. He leaned down and saw Brienne clutching the same stones and groves that he left her at. Brienne’s eyes were wide and her limbs shaking.

Grabbing the rope the men had left on the floor, Jaime lowered the noose end towards her.

“Loop your arm through and I’ll pull you up. Just a little climb, Brienne. Keep looking at me. Don’t look down.”

From below, Jaime saw Roose’s second contingent approaching on horseback. Brienne paused at the noise and began to look down, but Jaime yelled to her.

“Don’t! Just look at me, Brienne. Grab the rope.”

With a shaky hand, Brienne reached up with her right hand and looped her arm through the noose. The strain was evident, and she grimaced at the effort. Mirroring her effort, Jaime wrapped the rope around his right arm and began to pull her in. Jaime pulled as hard as he could, trusting that Brienne would use her feet and left hand to continue pulling herself up.

Just as the top of Brienne’s head came into view, she slipped and Jaime felt his heart skip a beat. Fearing she lost her grip on the rope, Jaime leaned over the windowsill. She was within arm’s reach, but frozen in fear at the near fall. Reaching down, Jaime grabbed her wrists.

“I’ve got you. I’ll never let you go.”

Jaime had never meant anything as much as he meant those words to Brienne. With his hands firmly wrapped around her wrists, Jaime began to pull as Brienne’s feet pushed off the side of the Keep. 

Hauling Brienne over the windowsill and into the room, they collapsed to the floor. Jaime scrambled to his knees and pulled Brienne close. An overwhelming relief settled over him. The warmth of her face against his and the feel of her heart beating against his own chest felt sweeter than anything.

Were it not for the looming threat of fire and battling armies, Jaime would have stayed there all day holding her tightly and thanking the gods she was unharmed.

Jaime moved quickly towards the window. He glanced down and saw roughly fifty soldiers bickering over what to do. Roose and their archers approached as the rest of the Bolton army was being decimated at the front gates.

The northern lord looked up angrily; his eyes meeting Jaime’s. A smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips as he waved to Roose.

“Give my regards to my father. I hope he finds a nice spot for your head atop the battlements.”

At Jaime’s back, Brienne shouted and scrambled to his side. “The others! They have them there!” Brienne was panicked as she looked down at the enemy.

From the west, a large portion of Ned’s mounted army was charging towards Roose’s group. Jaime’s eyes desperately searched the figures below. Then he saw them at the easternmost edge of the group. 

Chained and tied two to a horse, twelve men glanced up at Jaime and Brienne; one a bloodied Barristan Selmy. Jaime’s eyes went wide and he screamed. “Ser Barristan!”

The older knight smiled weakly. “Good lad! Keep her safe!”

Roose commanded his group southeast and Jaime watched helplessly as the Tarth soldiers and Barristan were taken with them. Looking down, Jaime saw roughly three hundred men approach on horseback. Among them, Brynden rode fast and glanced up at the Keep. 

“Ser Brynden!” Jaime waved his arms frantically and pointed. “They have Ser Barristan and the Tarth men!”

With a nod of understanding, Brynden commanded the men southest. Calls for aid from inside the castle walls reached the First Keep. Descending the steps quickly in a desperate pace akin to the day he chased Bran and Brienne from the tower, Jaime reached the courtyard and saw the remaining army trying to douse various fires. The flames were overwhelming in certain sections of the caste. Under Ned’s direction, household staff and soldiers tried to stop the flames from spreading.

Jaime and Brienne rushed to give aid. It took some time, but soon, the fires were snuffed out. Soon after, Jaime found himself pacing nervously outside Winterfell. At his back, Ned and Brienne gave each other updates; Ned on the efforts to the south, and Brienne on the effort to ensure Rickon’s escape.

Then in the distance, Jaime heard the thunderous pounding of horses’ hooves meeting the hardened ground. Time seemed to stand still as Jaime looked to the southeast. A swarm of returning soldiers came into view with Brynden leading the way. Jaime’s eyes searched the field for signs of the Tarth contingent and Ser Barristan. 

Horses began to reach the castle walls and soldiers dismounted quickly. Prisoners were dragged before Ned’s feet, but all Jaime cared to do was find his Lord Commander and Tarth’s men. With Brienne at his side, they moved past those returning to Winterfell. Then Jaime’s eyes landed on Barristan as the aged knight dismounted his horse.

Since watching Roose’s group flee Winterfell, Jaime felt as though he was holding his breath. With his sworn brother and the Tarth contingent safely returned, Jaime could breathe. Endrew ran to Brienne and wrapped his arms around her. Joining them, Barristan stepped forward and pulled Jaime into a firm embrace. 

“Well done. A knight like no other. I waged our lives on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU didn’t have a bear pit. How awful. I suppose it had a ridiculous tower rescue instead. For anyone curious, among the captured Boltons are Roose, Ramsay, and Locke.


	31. Catelyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn and Tyrion arrive at the Eyrie to treat with Lysa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! I'll have the next chapter up (Jaime POV) in the next hour or two once I can edit it more.

Catelyn stood in the high hall at the Eyrie. She glanced around the room before her eyes fell on the Moon Door. A slight shudder ran through her body at the sight of it. She knew of its purpose and history; neither making her feel good about their task to come.

Tales told of how Lysa had changed over the years after her time in King’s Landing. The shy and uncertain girl of their youth had been told to be unpredictable and fearful in her later years. Raising her eyes to the weirdwood throne that her sister sat upon, Catelyn grimaced at the sight of her nephew suckling at his mother’s breast.

The boy was seven and sickly looking. Lysa herself appeared unwell. Her body had thickened though her face was pale and devoid of life. Mistrusting eyes appraised them as she stroked her son’s head while he nursed.

“How dare you stand before me and ask for support against our king! Do you mean to endanger my sweet, little boy?”

At Catelyn’s side, Tyrion looked to the floor and bit back a laugh. Catelyn wanted to kick him in the leg and tell him to shut up, but in truth, the situation was absurd.

“Lysa, the crown seeks only to use you. If you would listen to Lord Tyrion’s words from the small council.”

Lysa’s eyes went wide. “You bring a Lannister into my home! You know what they’ve done to my lord husband.” Stopping to collect herself, Lysa shook her head and looked down at her son.

“Your aunt has done a bad thing, Robin. A very bad thing.”

It was the first time the boy left his mother’s teat since Catelyn and her escort entered the hall. Catelyn’s brows furrowed as the young boy looked to her in question.

As Robin appraised those assembled in the hall, Lysa smiled sweetly at him while addressing Catelyn. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he? Strong too. Those were his last words, you know. The seed is strong. He’ll rule the Vale well, just as Jon wanted.”

With a heavy sigh, Catelyn shook her head. “Lysa, you wrote me about the Lannisters, but I…”

“And I told you to stay away from them! Not to play host to them! I don’t trust the lies that pour from the imp’s lips.”

Robin spoke abruptly at Lysa’s side, his head reclining against her exposed breast. “Mommy, is that a bad man?”

“Yes, my love. He is. He’s Tyrion the Imp of House Lannister. He killed your daddy.”

Tyrion scoffed at the words; his brows furrowing. “Oh? I’m quite talented to have accomplished that while  _ not  _ in King’s Landing when he died.”

“I know it was your House! I know it!”

Lysa’s eyes were frantic as she stared down at Tyrion. The conversation was not going the direction that Catelyn had hoped, and Tyrion’s presence was only having the effect she feared.

“Lysa, I know you believed the Lannisters killed Jon, but it wasn’t Tyrion or Ser Jaime. I can assure you of that. They saved Sansa from the city and returned her home. Ser Jaime freed Ned and Arya as well.”

Lysa shook her head in refute and screamed out; her voice echoing off the walls. “Lies! All Lannisters are liars.”

Robin stood at the words and flailed like a tot having a fit. “I hate him, I hate him!”

Seeing the boy’s frazzled state, Lysa shushed him and pulled him to sit back against her. “It’s alright my sweet. He can’t hurt us. My sweet little boy.”

_ Gods. Tyrion had the right of it on the way here. She truly is a bit touched in the head. This is not the girl I grew up with. _

Exchanging an uneasy glance with Tyrion, Catelyn looked back to Lysa. She worked out a lie that might appease her sister well enough.

“Lysa, we share a common enemy. We believe it was Cersei who had a hand in Jon’s death, but we must work together to move against her. Joffrey may sit on the throne, but it is Cersei who is truly ruling. Even with Tywin as Hand, you can hear Cersei’s voice in Joffrey’s tyrannical orders.”

Lysa leaned forward in her chair; a curious expression on her face. “And? What of it?”

“We must ally our forces and move against the crown.”

Something flashed in Lysa’s eyes that Catelyn could not read. She leaned back and tilted her chin up. “My sources tell me that it is best to remain neutral. I can’t risk harm befalling my sweet boy.”

Tyrion glanced up at Catelyn and nodded slightly. He took a step forward and met Lysa’s eyes. “The enemy is House Lannister. Surely your…  _ sources _ … would agree.  _ He  _ and I both witnessed it while on the small council.”

The reference to Littlefinger was clear. At the words, Lysa took pause. For a brief moment, Catelyn thought she might relent, but instead, her confidence was renewed.

“And why would I join a fight against House Lannister… with a Lannister.”

Tyroin smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “You said it yourself. I am the imp of House Lannister. My father would just as soon cast me into the sea and be rid of me, but my brother saved me. We turned our backs on our House. The real question is, why should you trust Lord Baelish.”

Lysa bristled at the words. Before she could reply, Tyrion took another step forward. “My father tried to betroth you and Lord Baelish. My father wants the Vale. For the crown, it was ideal.”

Catelyn watched with interest as Lysa’s eyes went wide. Taking pause, Tyrion let the words synch in. Then he said something which Catelyn had not expected.

“Did you know that Littlefinger likes to keep auburn-haired whores in his brothels. They remind him of his love.” A smile slowly spread across Lysa’s face as she stared at Tyrion. After another brief pause, Tyrion spoke again. “Of  _ Catelyn _ .”

_ What? _

Catelyn’s eyes darted to Tyrion. Her mind went blank and she suddenly questioned what he meant to achieve by enraging Lysa. On the way to the Vale, Catelyn had shared stories from her childhood at Riverrun, including how Littlefinger had challenged Brandon Stark to a duel for Catelyn’s hand.

“Before my brother freed Ned Stark, the crown called for his head. When Littlefinger heard the news, he asked to marry your sister… his true love. He means to unite the North and Riverlands with the crown once more. Of course, that could not come to pass with Ned Stark now free, nor did Lady Catelyn wish to accept. Your sister is loyal to you, whereas Lord Baelish is not. He is using you.”

Tears flooded Lysa’s eyes and her chin quivered. Her eyes darted angrily to Catelyn. “Did he truly ask for your hand…  _ again _ ?”

A spark of hope ignited deep within. While it did not feel honorable to lie to her sister, Littlefinger had lied to Ned; the act nearly cost Ned his life.

“I’m so sorry, Lysa. I denied him again. I could not do that to you.”

Tyrion interjected once more, throwing out his arms dramatically. “And where is he now? My father asked him  _ again  _ to wed you and bring the Vale to the crown. He could be at your side, leading the Vale valiantly. Instead, he cowers in King’s Landing finding another way to get to your sister. He hopes that the North and the Riverlands will fall, and then he can have Lady Catelyn. If however the North and Riverlands prevail…”

Tyrion let the implication hang between them. Standing in a fury, Lysa locked eyes with Catelyn. “The Vale stands with its kin. Our knights will move against  _ the crown _ to avenge Lord Arryn. Cersei Lannister killed my husband. We will stand with the North and the Riverlands to remove the bastard and his murderous mother from the throne.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, a nearly imperceptible smirk stretched across Tyrion’s face. At risk of giving away the game, Catelyn refrained from pulling him into a firm embrace.

_ We can win this war. We have the army. We have the most formidable knights. We have the best strategists. _

Lysa gave instructions to her senior most commanders. They would prepare to ride out on the morrow and join forces with the combined forces of the North and the Riverlands. She then instructed an attendant to assign Catelyn, Tyrion, and their commanders rooms for the night. As they were guided through the winding hallways, Catelyn placed a warm hand on Tyrion’s shoulder and offered a subtle nod of thanks.

They were soon provided quarters and informed when supper would be served. Moving towards Tyrion’s room, Catelyn knocked lightly. When the door pulled back, a rather pleased looking Tyrion stepped back to allow Catelyn entry.

“I can’t thank you enough. I would not have considered  _ that _ approach.”

Tyrion hummed and poured them each a cup of wine. Handing Catelyn a cup, he tapped his glass against hers. “I am a man guilty of many things. Pot stirring is one of them.”

Catelyn chuckled and considered it all. “Gods. We’ve an army that will rival the crown’s once we unite with the Stormlands. We’ve arguably the greatest living knights among our forces. Now we have the best strategist. Your father was a fool for not seeing your worth.”

A sad smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips. “The important Lannisters do.”

“Jaime?” At Catelyn’s question, Tyrion nodded. “Yes, and my uncles and aunt. They’re good people; nothing like my sister and father. I don’t imagine we’ll win my aunt and uncles over so easily as we won Jaime over. They won’t have the same  _ motivation _ that he did.”

Tyrion chuckled and took a sip of his wine. The comment caught Catelyn by surprise. “What motivation does your brother have? Duty? Honor? To be honest, I’m quite surprised by his aid to our cause given certain  _ things _ .”

The implication was clear and didn’t warrant speaking more plainly. Tyrion shook his head and sighed. “I never understood  _ that, _ and I would rather not think on it before supper. Fortunately, that seems a regrettable decision of the past, not the present. My brother has moved on to bigger and better things.”

Tyrion chuckled at his choice of words, but Catelyn still did not follow. Taking a sip of her wine, Catelyn tilted her head in question. “I don’t speak in riddles so well as you do. My House speaks much more plainly. What are you on about?”

Tyrion seemed to think better of it and shook his head. “You’ll see soon enough. Just don’t be surprised when you realize it. My brother has always been a man driven by love.”

Catelyn startled at the words. Her brows furrowed, but she questioned Tyrion on it no further. As Tyrion began to ramble about additional opportunities for alliance and potential weakness of the crown’s assembled forces, Catelyn’s mind wandered to his earlier words about Jaime.

_ Is he in love with Brienne? He did keep her secret despite his own leaking out. He did rescue her from Tarth. He did seem ready to run to Winterfell at the thought of House Bolton harming her. Could it be… _

“Lady Catelyn… did you hear me?”

Shaking her head, Catelyn met Tyrion’s curious eyes. “Apologies. I was just wondering how things are going to the north. I worry for Rickon and Brienne.”

Tyrion huffed a small laugh. “If anyone can rescue them, it’s my brother. He has saved me from far worse.”

“Who has he saved you from?” Catelyn lowered the cup of wine in her hands. She appraised Tyrion as a flood of memories seemed to pass through his mind. A sad smile tugged at his lips before he spoke.

“Our family.”


	32. Jaime XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finds out what happened during Brienne's captivity after a chat with Barristan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Catelyn II POV)  
> Warning: This chapter has mention of torture (against Theon and poor Maester Luwin). It also has mention of threatened rape (though that will not be happening in this fic!). It is Ramsay and Locke after all (they are awful).

Jaime appraised the destruction of Winterfell from the middle of the courtyard. Soldiers and castle staff had worked tirelessly to salvage what they could, but the Starks would have a significant challenge before them to restore their home.

Ned stood before Jaime and Brienne. The fatigued lord updated Brienne of the intent to win the crown in her name. With a heavy sigh, Ned gripped Brienne’s arm.

“I’m so sorry, Brienne. Cat and I should have kept this to ourselves. We put you in harm’s way, and now we ask you to take the throne. We’re trying to find a different way, but as of now, you’re the closest we have to an heir.”

Brienne shook her head. It was evident to Jaime that she had little desire to argue over matters to the south. When she spoke, her voice was soft and defeated. “We should write to the Wall and ensure Rickon got there safely.”

Ned nodded and smiled at Brienne. “Thank you for ensuring his escape. You truly need to stop putting everyone else before yourself, but on this account, you saved his life.”

“Knights take oaths to put others first. I did nothing so special as they are expected to do every day.” With a small smirk, Brienne glanced at Jaime. “Besides, my actions were reasonable. It isn’t as though I climbed a tower to catch someone massive.”

Jaime could hardly suppress the smile on his face as he raised a brow at Brienne. “Come now princess, it’s the job of the knight to rescue the maiden fair.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and began to step away, but Jaime grabbed her wrist. An expectant brow raised as he appraised her. “I do believe the knight is supposed to receive a kiss for his daring rescue. Neither of you are very appreciative damsels, though Ned did request to see my cock on the journey here.”

At the words, Ned groaned in distaste and quickly moved away. It was the exact reaction that Jaime had hoped for as he was left alone with Brienne. He chuckled and pulled her closer.

“I’ll allow you to fulfill the kiss on behalf of yourself and Ned.”

Brienne’s face reddened at the words. Her eyes darted around the yards before looking to the ground. “Thank you for saving me, Ser Jaime. I can never repay you for it all.”

“Strange... that didn’t feel like a kiss, though I did see your lips move.”

Brienne swallowed thickly and looked to Jaime through her lashes. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, though it feels as though you don’t deem my efforts worthy of a kiss.” Jaime hummed and pretended at mulling over a different approach. “Shall I attempt a more dramatic rescue? This was a bit dull. Perhaps I could save you from some type of oversized beast or a more threatening enemy?”

Brienne chuckled and hummed slightly before offering a quick, chaste peck to Jaime’s cheek. Before she could pull away, Jaime wrapped his arm around her. His cheek pressed against Brienne’s and he spoke sincerely.

“I meant what I said. I’d never let you go.”

At the words, Brienne startled. Her head pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. There was a question on her face that she did not give voice to, but Jaime hoped his eyes conveyed his sincerity.

Unexpectedly, Brienne pressed her lips to his cheek once more. Unlike the first kiss, the second lingered and was softer. “I believe you’ve saved me twice. Lord Stark can reward you on his own.”

Jaime felt his cheeks heat. If the Stranger came for him now, Jaime knew he could die a happy man there in the courtyard. An easy smile spread across his face and he teased lightly. “I could have sworn it was  _ three  _ times.”

_ Meryn. Tarth. That bloody tower. _

Brienne considered the words. Her brows furrowed, but she nodded slightly. “I think you’ve the right of it.” 

A loose strand of hair fell in her face as inclined her head. Jaime reached up to tuck it behind her ear as his eyes locked on hers. He had never wanted to kiss anyone so badly as he did Brienne. The fear of almost losing her that day was overriding any reason and propriety. Even through the plume of smoke hanging over Winterfell, the sun poked through and made her eyes sparkle.

“Ser Jaime.” Barristan’s voice cut through the trance that Jaime found himself in. He jumped backwards and watched as Brienne flushed and moved quickly towards the Keep. Before turning to face Barristan, Jaime tried to still his racing heart. It felt as though he was a boy caught skipping lessons with his maester.

Pivoting towards Barristan, Jaime raised a brow and hoped his voice didn’t crack like a green lad. “Yes?”

“Walk with me.”

_ Seven hells. _

Jaime fell into step beside Barristan as the Lord Commander moved towards the main gate. Barritsan’s face reflected a less than pleasant captivity and with each step, a slight grimace lined his features. They walked in silence; each man appraising the damage. When they moved outside the castle walls, Barristan sighed and turned right. His hand came to Jaime’s back and his brows furrowed slightly.

“I’m quite proud of you. You safely removed Lady Sansa as planned, though it seems you kidnapped your kin in the process.” The older knight smirked as he spoke. He stared into the distance and continued walking at a slow pace.

“I hear from the Blackfish you  _ climbed  _ that tower to save our princess. Thank the gods I only caught the end of the rescue. I’m too old for such dramatics.”

After a heavy sigh, Barristan continued speaking. “At first, I thought the Boltons would simply kill us after receiving word from the capital that my excuse for being in the north was false. I prayed to the Seven you would arrive in time. Then I heard Roose’s plans to  _ await  _ your arrival. Your father ordered Roose to bring us all south.”

Jaime nodded. “Yes. It seems my father saw value in having us returned to the city.”

Barristan nodded and hummed in consideration. “So he has seen it too then.”

“Seen what?” Jaime’s brows furrowed and he glanced at Barristan.

The older knight stopped walking and sighed. With his hand on Jaime’s shoulder, a sympathetic smile stretched across Barristan’s face. “You’re in love with her.”

Barristan was the third person to confront Jaime about the truth of his feelings for Brienne. The sensation was akin to being knocked from a horse in a joust. Jaime stammered and shook his head, but Barristan only chuckled and interrupted him.

“You’ve saved her more than once. You’ve guarded her secret. You’ve danced with her. You’ve gifted her your dagger…” Barristan raised a knowing brow and glanced to the modest dagger now at Jaime’s hip. “More than any of that, it’s the way you look at her. It’s as though she’s the only light in your world and without her near, you’re stumbling about in the dark.”

Jaime looked to the ground in reply. He couldn’t refute it, but he knew what was to come next and it hurt to think on. Ever reliable, Barristan spoke the words that Jaime dreaded.

“You are a Kingsguard. You serve for life. If we win this war and they place Brienne on the throne as intended, she’ll need to take a husband. What then? Will you cuckold another king, or are we putting that nonsense behind us?”

The words were like a sword through Jaime’s heart. He knew the truth in it, and he had desperately tried to remind himself that the only thing to come from the situation was heartbreak. Jaime would have to watch  _ again  _ as another man claimed the woman he loved. He would have to stand guard outside Brienne’s chambers as another man loved her in ways he longed to.

Swallowing down the pain, Jaime met Barristan’s eyes. “I will not dishonor her. I’ll protect her always.”

A pitying expression lined Barristan’s features and he patted Jaime on the cheek. “She couldn’t have a better protector than you. Come along. Let's visit the prisoners. I believe you had some unanswered questions earlier.”

Jaime had  _ many  _ questions in fact. He wanted to know who hurt Brienne and how. He wanted to know what Barristan’s group endured while captive. He wanted to know who the two men with Ramsay were. Jaime had a feeling that he would not like the answers to those questions. 

They arrived in the dungeon and Barristan’s face set into a deep scowl. Jaime watched as Barristan’s eyes scanned the rows of cells in the lower level of Winterfell. Roose Bolton was in the first cell. A bruise blossomed over his swollen eye where he had taken the hilt of Brynden’s sword. 

“Lord Bolton sent word ahead to his bastard, Ramsay. He ordered us held safely until his arrival. For days, no one came to us. No food or water. On one occasion, Maester Luwin snuck into the dungeon with a flask of water and what little food he could hide within his robes. They beat him for it. Then Roose arrived and received his instructions from your father. They wanted to make a show of executing me and Endrew’s men in King’s Landing. We heard that you were to wed Brienne. It was quite interesting…”

Barritsan raised a knowing brow as he glanced at Jaime before guiding him to the next cell. At the back of the musty smelling cell was an unconscious young man with dark, curly hair. By all accounts, he had taken quite a beating from Brynden’s contingent. The arrogant young man refused to submit to capture. Repulsion shone bright in Barristan’s eyes.

“That is Ramsay. It was Ramsay who initially captured us, though we put up a good fight. We killed more than twice our own numbers before he arrived with reinforcements. He threatened our princess, so I threatened him. I gladly accepted this in exchange.” Barristan gestured to his face which was bruised and previously bloodied. Dry blood was still caked onto the top of Barristan’s jerkin.

“As I mentioned, Ramsay couldn’t do much to us until his father arrived. Instead, he tortured the Greyjoy boy. They removed pieces of him; fingers, toes, and an ear. Maester Luwin tried to stop them. Despite the horrid beating the maester received for bringing us water and food, he returned at night to treat Theon.”

Barristan took a deep breath and shook his head. “A tender man. He should have fled or kept away from the dungeon. Ramsay’s guard found him helping Theon. They… flayed Luwin.” 

Jaime felt bile rise in his throat. He wanted to strangle Ramsay with his bare hands. Then they moved to the last cell. If the look Barristan offered Ramsay was hateful, what he offered this last man was the Seven Hells. 

“This is Locke; Ramsay’s pet rat. Ramsay insisted on keeping Brienne in a separate cell from the rest of us. He threatened to pay her  _ visits _ . The idea of Tywin Lannister’s gooddaughter birthing a northern bastard amused Locke. He threatened to dishonor her many times. They taunted her and tried to humiliate her. Ramsay quite enjoyed Locke’s idea, and one day they grew daring. They entered her cell; just the two of them. It was awful being so close, yet unable to defend her. She gave them quite the beating for their effort, but they called for the guards to give aid. That is how she earned the bruising. They knew better than to enter her cell after that encounter, and Roose put a stop to it when he found out. He didn’t want to jeopardize the alliance with your father. Ramsay and Locke hated her after that. I think that's why Ramsay defied Roose's orders and told the men to dangle her from the tower.” 

_ I’ll kill this miserable shit myself. _

Jaime stepped close to the cell; his fingers curling around the bars as he appraised the beaten man at the back of it. “Did he  _ touch  _ her?”

“No, though he tried. Disgusting creatures. The pair of them were no match for our princess.”

The sound of Rhaella’s screams from behind her chamber door came to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. He detested people who forced themselves on others. While Brienne was able to fight them off, Jaime felt sickened that she even had to.

Jaime stared at Locke as he spoke to Barristan. “Perhaps we should ensure he doesn’t try to touch anyone ever again.”

At the back of the cell, Locke stiffened. He shifted back against the wall; a wary look in his eyes.

Moving to Jaime’s side, Barristan hummed in consideration. “That’s quite the new sword you have at your hip.”

A vicious smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. “Valyrian steel. They say it can cut through anything. I’d be curious to put that to the test.”

Barristan’s lips quirked as his eyes locked on Ramsay. “Torturing prisoners is dishonorable, Ser Jaime, though, I recently learned that there  _ can  _ be honor in seemingly dishonorable acts.”

Barristan surprised Jaime by producing a key. Without looking at Jaime, Barristan spoke ominously. “I suppose it isn’t unworthy to visit him inside the cell. What harm could two men do to one prisoner?” 

Locke stood to his feet and began to plead. The knights moved slowly into the cell with hands clasped behind their backs. 

“I was only followin’ me ordres.” 

Jaime’s brows furrowed and he spoke with feigned surprise. “Did Lord Bolton instruct you to rape the princess?”

“It was Ramsay’s idea!”

Barristan hummed. “I seem to recall it was  _ your  _ idea and Ramsay took a liking to it. It was  _ your  _ hand that reached for the princess. Your  _ right  _ hand.”

At Barristan’s words, he lunged towards Locke and smashed his head backwards into the wall. Holding Locke’s arm flat against the stonework, Barristan glanced back at Jaime. Jaime already had the Valyrian steel sword unsheathed. Without a moment’s hesitation. The sword cut clean through Locke’s hand. 

Locke’s eyes went wide and an ear piercing scream echoed off the dungeon walls. All three men glanced at the severed hand; it was a clean cut indeed. 

“My that  _ is  _ sharp.” Barristan’s tone reflected his indifference for Locke’s pain. 

Handing Barristan the sword, Jaime nodded. “Well-forged, though Ned is less than pleased.”

Clutching at his bloody stump, Locke dropped to the floor and rolled in pain. Jaime bent down and picked up the severed hand. Without another word, the Kingsguard left the cell. 

Barristan locked the door and sighed. “I suppose we should have that cut tended to. We wouldn’t want him dead before the execution.”

The volume of Locke’s screams had roused Ramsay who glanced around in confusion. Jaime hummed at Barristan’s words and chucked Locke’s hand into Ramsay’s cell. “Here. I understand you like severed body parts.”

Barristan handed Jaime the sword back and they slowly made their way from the dungeon. A warm hand came to the back of Jaime’s neck as they casually walked past the cells. “Did I ever tell you of the time I slew Maelys Blackfyre?” 

Before Jaime could reply, they passed Roose’s cell. The older lord leaned against the wall; his shocked and frightened eyes following the two Kingsguard. In a nonchalant tone, Barristan nodded at the man. “Sleep well, Lord Bolton.”

Jaime bit back a smile and returned his attention to Barristan. “Sadly, you have not shared the tale.” 

“Ah lovely. Lets get something to eat and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Three days later, their contingent was still at Winterfell. Ned did not want to leave until Rickon returned from the Wall. After sending a raven to Castle Black, he sent a missive to Riverrun detailing their success in the North and indicating they would await word from the Wall. On the third day, a raven flew back from Castle Black.

Jon was north of the Wall on a ranging mission, but Rickon had arrived safely. He and the Tarth soldiers were being cared for until Jon’s return, or word from Winterfell. With Ned’s confirmation that the castle was secure, the Tarth soldiers would return south with Rickon.

An incredible relief washed over Ned, but he thought it curious that there was no mention of Bran. Brienne shared Ned’s confusion as Maester Luwin had insisted Bran went north to find Jon.

Each night, Jaime took to the yards to train. The Blackfish, Barristan, and Brienne joined him for what turned out to be the most incredible sparring sessions of his life. As enjoyable as it was, sadness lingered in the back of Jaime’s mind as he reflected on Barristan’s words. More than anything, Jaime wanted to be with Brienne, but he knew that he couldn’t. He was a Kingsguard and she soon to become queen.

On the fourth day, amissive arrived from Riverrun. Catelyn had sent word to Edmure of a successful meeting with Lysa on account of Tyrion’s efforts. The Vale would join their effort in the war against the crown. As Ned made the announcement to the men amassed in the hall, loud cheers erupted. The excitement was palpable and the noise deafening.

Jaime sat at a table with Barristan, Brienne, and the Tarth contingent. When he thought no one was looking, Jaime stole glances at Brienne. Her smile had a way of lighting up the room and Jaime wondered if he would ever get to receive his third kiss.

Unlike the happiness inside the Keep, outside, a storm raged. Were the temperature any cooler, it would have deposited mounds of snow onto the dreary landscape, but the weather was warm enough that it only made a mess of the yards. After supper, Barristan and Jaime walked Brienne back to her room. They were each assigned a room near hers to ensure she was well-guarded, even among allies.

For what felt hours, Jaime tossed and turned. He clutched the gold dragon in his hand and stared out the window. The rain was coming down harder than it had all day, but Jaime needed to get outside. He needed to swing his sword and hit something. It felt as though Jaime was doomed to love the unattainable. He wished for nothing more than to pass the hours tangled in Brienne’s limbs.

Jaime put on breeches, a tunic, and a jerkin before moving towards the yards. Going out in such conditions would only end with a chill, but his arm itched with the need to unleash a torrent of blows on something.

Jaime began his drills on the dummy. All the pain at knowing his love could never be fulfilled drove his arm forward until the dummy was little more than shreds of straw and cloth hanging from the post. Then he heard her.

“Ser Jaime. Are you alright?”

Turning around, Jaime saw Brienne standing at the edge of the yards. She had a sword strapped to her hip, and like Jaime, she was thoroughly soaked.

“You’ll catch a chill out here. Where is Ser Barristan?”

Brienne shrugged. “I imagine he’s sleeping. I just… I couldn’t sleep.”

Jaime nodded in understanding. He glanced back at the destroyed practice dummy and sighed. “Would you care to spar?”

A smile stretched across Briennne’s face and she unsheathed her sword in reply. They circled around one another; their swords coming together in perfect harmony. Sparring with Brienne was unlike anything Jaime experienced with others. While Jaime was the superior swordsman, Brienne could read his body in ways others couldn’t. She anticipated his strikes and moved fluidly around him. They moved as one rather than opposition.

Their blades crashed together as lovers might. Their feet moved as though choreographed. Their hearts seemed to beat as one as their eyes locked and their chests heaved from exertion. In a flash of steel, their arms swung out. Both held their strikes, but the blades came to the other’s neck. It was their first draw of the night, and Jaime couldn’t help the smile at his lips.

_ She gets better every time. _

They straightened and let their swords fall at their sides. As Jaime caught sight of Rhaella’s pendant beneath Brienne’s tunic, he remembered the coin. Reaching into his pocket, Jaime produced the gold dragon.

“I meant to return this to you. Apologies… I bled on it a bit. It brought me luck.”  _ It brought me back to you, even though I can’t have you. _

Jaime extended his hand towards Brienne. When their rain-slicked fingers touched, Jaime felt a jolt go through his body. Brienne took the coin and smiled softly as water cascaded down her pale skin. “Did I tell you that when I knocked Ronnet to his ass in the melee, I had the coin in my gloved hand... for luck.”

A laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. He took a step closer to Brienne and looked deep into her eyes. “Did I tell you that when I broke Ronnet’s nose in King’s Landing, I was holding the coin… for fun.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. After the shock passed, she laughed and a beaming smile stretched across her face, Jaime couldn’t resist any longer. He quickly closed the distance between them; his sword dropping to the ground.

Grabbing her face in his hands, Jaime lifted on his toes and kissed Brienne fiercely. Brienne stumbled backwards in shock. Releasing Brienne’s face, Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist. As surprising as his own actions were, Jaime felt greater shock when Brienne hesitantly returned the kiss. Her hands came to his face and he smiled at the feel of the coin still held securely between her fingers.

The rain continued its assault and ran between their cheeks as their lips pressed together. Jaime’s tongue glided along Brienne’s lips and enticed them open. As he deepened the kiss, Brienne whimpered slightly. A desperate need to never let go consumed Jaime. When eventually they broke the kiss, their foreheads pressed together as they panted for air.

Jaime couldn’t stop staring into Brienne’s eyes. Her pupils consumed the sapphire pools that he loved to look upon.

“Why?”

Brienne’s question felt as dizzying as the kiss. Jaime considered it and smiled. “You owed me a third, though I’m hoping for a fourth.”

A shy smile spread across Brienne’s face. “Whatever will you save me from next?”

“Ideally a marriage to anyone not me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. It physically hurt to write about Luwin (and even Theon didn't deserve that). Luwin was such a sweet man, but Ramsay and Locke are the WORST.


	33. Brienne IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne reacts to Jaime's kiss and participates in executions.

The sensation of Jaime’s lips lingered on Brienne’s for some hours after he kissed her in the training yards. Brienne lay awake staring at the ceiling as the rain continued to drench the lands outside. She traced her lips with her fingers as if it were possible to feel Jaime on them. The kiss had been dizzying and Brienne understood now why women swooned. Her legs had felt weaker than after battle or clinging to a tower. She thought back on the evening with a small smile on her face.

_ An hour earlier _

After the kiss, they stood in the yards pressed close for some time. Brienne was afraid to move for fear it had all been a dream and stepping away would somehow shatter the image. Instead, Jaime slipped his hand into hers and pulled her back towards the castle.

Their clothes were drenched and their swords muddy from having been dropped to the rain-sodden ground. Wordlessly Jaime tugged her through the Keep and into a side room on the main level. The castle was quiet on account of the hour. Poor conditions drove most to bed earlier than usual that evening, and castle staff roaming the halls were limited.

The study stunk of smoke as did most of the Keep. While much of the Great Keep was untouched by flames, the stench permeated the entirety of Winterfell and loomed heavy in every room. Before Brienne could question what Jaime was doing, he spun around and found her lips once more. His arm reached out behind Brienne and he closed the door quietly.

Jaime’s body pressed Brienne backwards. The wooden door pushed her soaked jerkin and tunic against her back and sent a chill up her spine. Brienne wondered if the chill was truly from the wet clothing against her skin, or the incredible feeling of Jaime’s lips reunited with hers.

The sound of lips hungrily seeking out their counterpart and panting breath was all that could be heard in the small room. There was a desperation to Jaime that Brienne had not noticed in the yards. His hands grabbed possessively at her hips and his eyes looked pained when he broke the kiss and looked at her.

“I don’t want to watch you marry another.”

Jaime’s admission was startling. Brienne was torn between wanting to laugh and cry. There was no one coming to claim her, but even if there was, her heart was no longer available to offer.

“I don’t want to marry another.”

Jaime sighed and slumped against her. “I’m a Kingsguard. They’ll never let me be with you.”

Brienne could never ask Jaime to break an oath. She could never ask him to do anything which might bring him dishonor. It occurred to her that the only way to be with him was in secret. The reality was cruel for them both.

“They’ll not force me to marry.”

Jaime’s lips were back on hers. If being touched by him meant giving up a life with a family to call her own, she would. She had always wanted children and a lord husband, but the kingdoms thought her dreams frivolous. She was given a sword instead of a husband. She would protect the innocent instead of holding her own innocents.

The thought of never feeling Jaime’s lips on hers again felt a worse fate. They would see Brienne seated on the Iron Throne after Joffrey was removed. It was not a fate she wanted. Her place was on Tarth with her father, but now she wondered if the throne afforded an advantage.

_ He entered the Kingsguard to be near Cersei. Perhaps I can take the crown to be near him. _

Brienne considered the irony of it. Inwardly, she knew it wasn’t even a question. At a time, she would have given up Tarth to serve at Renly’s side; to protect him despite never being afforded a scrap of affection.

For Jaime, she would do more. She would take the wretched crown and make a fool of herself at court. The unweddable sovereign loathed by the beautiful women of court and despised by the lords who wished for better.

Jaime’s hips pushed against her pelvis. At the feel of his hard cock, a deep want pooled in areas that Brienne thought to never acquaint herself with. They both moaned at the contact and Jaime’s lips stilled once more.

His breathing was labored, and he whispered into her neck. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much, but I can’t dishonor you.”

_ Perhaps honor is overrated. _

Jaime stepped backwards; his eyes cast to the floor and a grimace on his face. He adjusted his cock and reached for Brienne’s hand. “I best walk you to your room before Ser Barristan finds us and makes his own modifications to my person.”

Brienne huffed a laugh and straightened her rain-soaked clothing. They moved through the halls pressed close with their hands joined. When they arrived at Brienne’s room, Jaime raised her knuckles to his lips and placed a soft kiss.

“Goodnight, princess. I look forward to finding new ways to save you.”

The next day, Brienne made her way to the hall to break her fast. She was surprised to find the room bustling with activity.

_ I suppose everyone did take to bed early last night. They all appear lively and ready to go. _

Brienne sat beside Ser Endrew and whispered inquiringly. “What’s going on? Everyone seems quite energetic.”

Endrew smirked and raised a brow. “They’re to execute Roose, Ramsay, and Locke today.”

Brienne’s eyes widened at the words. The traitorous lord and his men had been unceremoniously flung to the ground before Ned’s feet when the group returned after the battle. 

The image of what the three had done to Theon and Maester Luwin was unbearable to think upon. Despite Theon’s betrayal of House Stark, Ned had a local healer treat the young man. Theon lay in the Great Keep, but his spirit was broken. Brienne had visited days prior and observed the dull look in his eyes. It was as though he was already dead, and his body neglected to stop breathing.

Brienne was torn between feelings of sympathy and disregard. The young Greyjoy had tried to harm her friends and betrayed them in the worst way. At the same time, no one deserved the torture inflicted upon Theon.

Barristan and Jaime had been speaking with Ned at the front of the hall. They noted her entrance and both men moved towards the table. Barristan rolled his eyes as Jaime quickly took the open seat to Brienne’s left. The aged knight sat across the table and smiled warmly at her.

“Good morning. I trust you slept well?”

With a shy smile, Brienne nodded in affirmation. Memories of Jaime pressed close filled her mind; his hard cock pushing against her body and his lips exploring her skin.

As if he could read her thoughts, Jaime’s hand reached for hers discreetly under the table. His fingers laced through Brienne’s and his thumb rubbed the back of her hand gently. The staff placed bowls of porridge before Barristan and Jaime and both men eagerly began to eat, but Jaime did not release Brienne’s hand. Instead, he picked up his spoon in the left hand and began to eat.

Almost immediately, Barristan noticed the awkwardness of Jaime’s offhand scraping the sides of the bowl with a spoon. An amused smirk tugged at his lips and he stopped eating to watch. He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms; a brow raised in question.

“Is this a new training method, Ser Jaime?”

At the question, Brienne felt her face redden. Jaime looked up through his lashes. The path of his left hand towards his lips halted and porridge dripped from the edge of the spoon back into the bowl.

“What?”

Tilting his chin toward Jaime’s left hand in indication, Barristan’s tone was teasing as he spoke. “I daresay I’ve never seen a right handed man eat with his left.”

Jaime hummed and shrugged. “Perhaps that’s why I’m so impressive with a sword? I train both hands for combat. Perhaps you’ve never noticed.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Barristan’s lips and he picked up his spoon. The words were muttered, but audible. “Cuckolding it is.”

The rest of the meal was spent with the two Kingsguard debating the merit of wielding one sword versus two. Their dynamic was peculiar to watch, but Brienne enjoyed it nonetheless. Throughout the interactions that Brienne observed, Jaime would needle Barristan or try to goad him into ridiculous debates such as the one they found themselves in now. 

For his part, Barristan appeared put off by the ridiculous commentary, but there was a fondness in his tone; an almost paternal regard for Jaime. At times, Barristan would halfheartedly chastise Jaime for making what he called ‘Lannisteresque comments’ which Brienne took to mean obnoxious, arrogant, and self-serving.

Pointing at Barristan with his spoon, Jaime raised a challenging brow and needled him further. “But now if you have two swords and we’re in close range, I can merely stab you with a dagger. You’ll not have the distance necessary to strike with the swords.”

Barristan huffed at Jaime’s words. “You truly think you have a chance at getting within close range of me if I have two swords in my hand? Come now, boy. I’d have you in pieces well before you reached for your little dagger.”

There was a spark in Jaime’s eye that could only mean trouble. “So you have been training your left as well. I don’t care to know  _ how  _ if not with a spoon, but perhaps you can demonstrate the accuracy of your simultaneous cuts. Behead Locke and Ramsay at the same time later today.”

Brienne choked on her water at the suggestion. Her eyes darted to Barristan who looked unimpressed as ever. “I doubt that was Lord Stark’s intention when he asked for our assistance with the executions.”

With an innocent shrug, Jaime smirked. “He said ‘help’. He didn’t say ‘help and don’t have fun’.”

“That is not fun, Ser Jaime.” Barristan played at displeasure, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone and eyes.

The pair continued their back and forth, but Endrew captured Brienne’s attention. “My lady, do you suppose we should write to your father before we move out? I imagine in another week the rest of our men should return with Lord Rickon. A raven should be able to fly to Tarth and back.”

Brienne nodded in agreement. “Yes, I think you’ve the right of it. I’ll write him today.”

From the corner of Brienne’s eye, she saw Lord Stark approach. His face was set in a grim line as he stopped before their table.

“I was hoping to speak with our Queen before the executions this morning.”

_ Queen. Gods help me. I’ll not get used to that. _

Jaime’s hand tightened around Brienne’s from under the table. He chuckled and raised a brow at her. “Oh? Queen is it? My apologies. I fear I’ve still been calling you  _ princess _ .”

Releasing her hand, Jaime’s fingers danced up Brienne’s thigh before he stood. Barristan and Brienne were quick to follow as Ned guided them into a study off the main hall. Of course, Ned unknowingly chose the study that Jaime and Brienne visited the night prior.

A knowing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips when they stepped inside. Ned and Barristan moved into the room, but Jaime turned on heel to close the door. In a motion akin to the night prior, he reached past Brienne’s body to shut the door. Jaime’s chest pressed close to her and Brienne could feel his breath on her neck.

“Pardon me,  _ princess _ . Apologies…  _ my queen _ .”

Jaime’s voice was teasing as amusement sparkled in his eyes. At the memory of the night prior, Brienne felt her face redden. Ned began to speak as he approached a table at the other end of the room.

“In the North, we believe the man who passes the judgement should swing the sword. Would you care to execute the prisoners, your grace? Of course, I’m happy to pass sentence in your name. I’ve asked Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime to provide aid.”

The image of Maester Luwin’s kind eyes and warm smile flashed in Brienne’s mind. The image of Ramsay standing over Luwin’s body with a carving knife forced bile into her throat.

“I’ll do it. I’ll pass judgment on Ramsay. There is only one of me however, and I’m better wielding one sword at a time…” Brienne offered a teasing smile at Barristan. Her words amused Jaime endlessly and he chuckled lightly at her side.

Ned nodded and glanced at the men. “I’ll pass judgment on Lord Bolton. He betrayed my House and I wish for my men to see him dealt with accordingly. Perhaps one of you could pass judgement on Locke.”

Jaime spoke quickly at Brienne’s side. “I’ll do it. In the West, we believe in paying debts. Locke has established  _ quite _ a debt.”

Ned huffed and shook his head. “These are to be clean executions, Ser Jaime. I hear from the guards that the debt was partially paid.” The Stark patriarch raised a knowing brow at both knights. It was nearly imperceptible, but Brienne could make out the hint of a smirk on Ned’s lips.

Feigning innocence, Jaime put up a defensive hand. “The removal of his head will be clean enough.”

With a heavy sigh, Ned relented. “Very well. We’ll have the guards bring up the prisoners shortly.”

A vicious smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. He glanced at Brienne and offered a wink before addressing Ser Barristan. “Apologies, Lord Commander. You’ll need to put on a demonstration at another time. I fear our queen prefers to handle things the Stark way.”

Barristan chuckled and walked towards the door, stopping only to place a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. His voice was light and teasing as he shook his head. “Don’t have too much fun with this. No missing on the first swing.” Then one of Barristan’s more fatherly tones echoed throughout the room. “You are a knight. Be honorable.”

“I am nothing if not honorable.” Jaime replied in jest, but he dropped any mirth and only nodded slightly. “If my aim proves questionable, perhaps Ramsay can lend a hand.”

Barristan groaned at the words. “There’s something wrong with you. I’ll see you later.”

When later that day the three men were pulled into the yards, the soldiers of the North, Riverlands, and Tarth gathered around. Northern justice would be dispensed by three executioners spanning different kingdoms.

Each guard placed a prisoner on the executioner's blocks which were set out in the courtyard. Brienne’s eyes darted to Locke. He was in a daze and struggling to walk. It was then that Brienne noticed the bandages around a stump where once his hand was. With an innocent shrug, Jaime smiled before looking down at the man.

To Brienne’s left, she could hear Ned Stark passing judgement as she stood over Roose. To her right, Jaime crouched before Locke; a vicious smile tugging at his lips. He spoke in a whisper, but the words reached Brienne’s ears. 

“I wonder… when you arrive in the Seven Hells, will you make the mistake of trying to touch anyone else?”

Glancing down at Ramsay, Brienne sighed and spoke at the man. The words were those her father spoke to prisoners during executions, and akin to words that House Stark used.

“I, Lady Brienne, of House Tarth, do judge you guilty for the crimes of treason and unjust torture of captives. May the gods have mercy on you.”

Raising her sword, Brienne’s blade cut through Ramsay’s neck as Ned and Jaime did the same to their prisoners. All clean cuts. All quick executions. All better than they deserved.

Ned walked to Brienne and nodded in appreciation. “Rickon and the rest of your men should return soon. We’ll ride out then and tend to our remaining enemies.”

At the words, Brienne’s eyes flitted to Jaime. She knew the pain it must cause him to oppose his House. His jaw clenched as he looked to the ground. It was evident he had overheard Ned’s words and wanted little to do with the war to come. 


	34. Brienne X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes their way south from Winterfell to meet with the rest of the forces.

It was nearly three weeks after her rescue that Brienne found herself back on the kingsroad moving south. Rickon had returned with the Tarth soldiers and her heart swelled with happiness. The young boy clung to her more so than before.

“Brienne! I saw the Wall! It was so big!” The boy’s enthusiasm was palpable. He sat before her on a horse and prattled on about everything he had seen from the top of the Wall.

_Gods. I can’t believe my men took him up there. He could have been hurt, or worse._

Brienne was disheartened that Rickon did not see Bran at Castle Black. No one had reported seeing him along any guarded point at the Wall, and Brienne prayed to the gods that he was alive and safe somewhere. Still, it struck her as odd that no one encountered him.

The horses moved at a reasonable clip towards the Neck. A raven flew in from the Twins detailing Robb’s victory over House Frey. They would meet there and discuss the next move.

Rickon yawned loudly and leaned against Brienne’s chest. The sensation of the young boy pressed against her sent a maternal warmth through Brienne’s body. She smiled as Rickon drifted in and out of consciousness. With each jostle of the horse, he rambled about something new he had seen while at the Wall.

Brienne was flanked by Barristan and Jaime. They rode in relative silence which was unusual for Jaime. He seemed pensive as they moved along the kingsroad, and Brienne wondered how he was feeling about the events to come.

The last weeks had been filled with lingering touches, stolen kisses, and longing stares. Brienne had a newfound understanding for what her father’s early relationship with Rhaella must have been like. It struck her how similar things were shaping out to be. Like her father and Rhaella, her relationship with Jaime felt equally forbidden.

It wasn’t a shameful love, but a love that, in its current state, could never come to pass. Jaime had taken vows for life; vows that prevented him from taking a wife and fathering children. Of course, the latter had come to pass despite those vows, but Brienne certainly could not birth his bastards if Ned’s plans came to fruition. Then Brienne would be little more than a whore; an unwed noblewoman carrying a bastard whose father she could never disclose. She couldn’t do that to Jaime _again_.

Brienne hated the prospect of sitting on the throne. Inwardly, she hoped there was another way. Some secret heir who could unload the responsibility from her shoulders. Though if that happened, she would be separated from Jaime once more. He would guard the new sovereign in King’s Landing while she returned to Tarth and pined from afar.

_Would he miss me? Would he find another to love in secret? Perhaps I am merely a distraction from Cersei, and I misinterpret his actions with love. He can’t possibly feel for me as much as he felt for her. He could never feel for me as much as I feel for him._

Brienne glanced to her right and was surprised to find Jaime’s eyes on her. Her face flushed as their eyes met and Brienne watched a secret smile tug at his lips. Jaime stared at her strangely as she held Rickon to her chest. Something soft and unknown lingered in his gaze, but she couldn’t place it.

At her left, Barristan spoke quietly. “It seems we’re to stop for the night.”

Brienne directed her attention forward and appraised the front lines. Ned and Brynden had halted their progress and were directing the men to set up camp. Urging her horse forward, the contingent from Tarth soon reached the main group.

The steady rise and fall of Rickon’s chest indicated the boy was in deep sleep. As her horse came to a stop, Brienne contemplated how to get him to a bedroll without waking him. Then she saw Jaime at the side of her horse and reaching up.

“I’ll bring him to his tent. I’d be asleep too if I talked that much. He might actually yammer on more than me and Tyrion combined.”

Brienne smiled as Jaime took the young boy from her arms. He gave a wink before turning to bring the boy to Ned as tents took shape and men began to start campfires. At Brienne’s other side, Barristan reached up and offered a hand. It was strange to have so many people attentive to her. Brienne was accustomed to being on her own. 

While she didn’t need aid for such mundane tasks, it was nice to feel recognized as a woman. So often in life, Brienne was treated with little regard or as though she was a poorly made male heir. Only her father treated her as a lady prior to the peculiar journey she found herself on now.

The Tarth soldiers setup camp quickly. A roaring fire was soon going in the middle of the encampment and the men huddled together telling tales from all manner of adventures and memories. Barristan was at Brienne’s side and quietly chuckling at some of the stories making their way around the campfire.

He spoke quietly for Brienne’s ears only. “They’re good men. Your father truly sent the best of them with us.”

Brienne smiled and nodded. “He did. Though I’m glad he kept a few of his best archers with him.”

The reference to Selwyn’s missive came to the forefront of Brienne’s mind. When the missive arrived at Winterfell and she read aloud of the treatment afforded to Ser Ronnet and his escort, the Tarth contingent cheered loudly and japed at Red Ronnet’s demise. Of course, Selwyn would maintain the front. He was using Ronnet’s seal to send communication to the capital and other vassals.

Barristan hummed at the words. “I still can’t believe the miserable shit did that to you. Ronnet that is. Was he your only betrothal?”

Brienne swallowed thickly and shook her head. “No. My second of three.”

At the words, Barristan’s eyes went wide. “Three? I’m surprised you’re still unwed.”

With a sigh, Brienne shared why the first never came to pass. It was the only failure not directly attributable to her. “After Ronnet, my father tried for another match near enough to my age. He hosted a ball, though it… did not end well.”

Embarrassment flooded Brienne as she shared the truth of the ball. The great jape played by the boys. The older knight looked pained at the tale. “You didn’t deserve that treatment. Rather unbecoming of the young lads.”

“It’s alright. I’m quite used to it. I am aware of my appearance.”

Brienne bit her lip. Her ugliness was something that didn’t warrant stating. It felt as obvious as noting when it was sunny or raining. Then Brienne told Ser Barristan of Ser Humfrey. She chuckled as she detailed her victory over the old man, but Barristan held no mirth in his eyes.

The lack of reciprocated merriment at the tale left Brienne wondering if she had done wrong by injuring Ser Humfrey who threatened to chastise her and force her into a dress.

“I… I suppose it wasn’t worthy. I shouldn’t have hurt him to such an extent.”

Barristan shook his head and sighed. “I was more thinking the opposite. You did him a kindness by letting him live.”

The response was unexpected. Brienne shrugged and looked to the flames. “He did me no wrong, nor did my septa. They merely responded to my existence as anyone might. I worry what the kingdoms will think if they truly mean to put me on the throne. When the men see what they fight for, perhaps they’ll think better of it. Court is not a place that I’m well-suited for. I do better in the yards. When I fight, it’s alright that I’m ugly. No one pays it much attention when we’re exchanging blows..”

Barristan’s voice was stern at her side. It took on more of a fatherly edge than his usual tone. “Do not say such things about yourself. Should anyone disparage you at court, they’ll answer to my blade. We’ll protect more than your physical person. You have my word.”

Brienne’s head snapped to Barristan. The flickering shadows of the campfire danced on his polished Kingsguard armor and cast shadows on his face.

“I thank you, ser, but that is a tall order. There will be no shortage of disgust-filled looks and untoward japes. I can assure you, I am well-accustomed to it.”

With only a shake of his head in refute, Barristan narrowed his eyes. “You will not be accustomed to it under my watch. I highly doubt such treatment towards you would go over well with Ser Jaime either.”

Barristan raised a knowing brow. At the comment, Brienne felt a heat on her cheeks which was unrivaled by the warmth of the campfire. Her eyes darted across the camp where Jaime had been speaking with Brynden and Ned at length after bringing Rickon into a tent.

A heavy sigh drew her attention back to Barristan.

“To take a consort for the sake of having one is not sufficient. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You need a _worthy_ consort. Someone who will make you happy. Someone loyal and true. You can see what happens when royal marriages occur _only_ for a political purpose. I’m no fool. I understand the importance of political marriages, but a royal marriage that is harmonious encourages a harmonious realm.”

With a heavy sigh, Barristan looked to the stars above. “A Kingsguard is part of a sworn brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life, and only death relieves us of them. In the history of the Kingsguard, no knight has been released from his vows before meeting the Stranger. As a Kingsguard grows physically unfit to guard his king, his sworn brothers are meant to take on his share. It has always been the way. We may hold no lands and father no children. We must guard the king and royal family with our lives. We must safeguard our king’s secrets.”

Barristan raised a knowing brow at Brienne at the reference to Queen Rhaella’s secret, and the secret that Jaime had fought to protect for her. As he spoke, Brienne felt her spirits fall. She understood what Barristan was doing, and she knew it came from a good place. 

_He means to protect my heart and Jaime’s from the pain of what cannot be._

It hurt to realize that the only man who could ever truly see her and desire her, could never be with her. She would be alone in this world. Brienne’s eyes flitted to Jaime in the distance as he listened to Brynden; a small smile on his face as the older knight carried on. As though sensing her gaze, Jaime’s eyes pulled away Brynden and landed on her. His ace softened as their eyes met and Brienne felt the familiar flutter in her stomach as her neck heated.

At Brienne’s side, Barristan spoke quietly as though the words could ignite wildfire. “That isn’t to say there couldn’t be a loophole. I suppose a sovereign _could_ release someone from the Kingsguard, though unprecedented. It may be considered shameful to a Kingsguard to be released by the sovereign he vowed to serve for life. I wonder though… what of a change in dynasty? When Robert took the throne, only Ser Jaime and I remained of Aerys’ Kingsguard. Robert won by conquest and overthrew near 300 years of Targaryen rule. Both myself and Ser Jaime were pardoned for guarding our king in the war, and we made our vows to King Robert Baratheon. When he died, we of course continued to guard his family as the vows state; the next in line... or so I assumed. If Lord Stark and his forces win this war and they place you on the throne, the crown changes to _another_ House; _another_ dynasty. I suppose you would need to pardon the existing Kingsguard and allow them to continue to serve the crown, or reject them. I wonder if you might reject more than the unworthy?”

Barristan was a knight who valued tradition. To speak on such topics likely pained him, but there was a tenderness in his eyes as he spoke. He smiled at Brienne before continuing. “Do with that information what you will, princess.”

His eyes darted towards Jaime; a small smirk on his lips. They sat in companionable silence for some time before Jaime joined them. Jaime pressed close at Brienne’s side and complained about the North.

“It’s too cold, too cloudy, and has too much Ned in it.”

At Brienne’s left, Barristan groaned. “Not this again.”

“My apologies. Are you enjoying yourself, Ser Barristan? Perhaps our princess will relocate the capital? Winterfell has already seen fire and blood this past moon turn. I suppose it could be fitting to name it the capital for Rhaella’s daughter. On the bright side, between the miserable weather and presence of Ned Stark, no one will wish to conquer it.”

Brienne snorted at the words; her eyes darting to Jaime. His short, golden hair caught the firelight and gave him an almost godly glow.

The constant bickering between Ned and Jaime was amusing, though Brienne could see the respect each man held for the other. Neither man would ever admit to it, but the respect was poorly concealed to the point that Brienne took notice.

Their small group of three made idle conversation as the hour grew late. When the fire petered out, the soldiers brought over more logs before retiring for the night. Barristan was not long to follow, and soon, only Jaime and Brienne remained.

A restless energy kept Brienne awake most nights. Despite her father being safe for now, she worried about his long-term wellbeing. It seemed only a matter of time before the crown called on Tarth in the war to come, or sent an envoy to visit.

Further, Brienne worried over the battles which loomed on the horizon. She wondered at what role she would be expected to play in it. Jaime’s left hand grabbed at Brienne’s inner thigh and drew her attention from the fire.

“Are you tired?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne smiled weakly. “It’s difficult to take rest with so much to consider.”

Jaime nodded in understanding as his thumb rubbed gently back and forth. The feel of his warm hand on her leg was comforting, but it also sent her mind spiraling into less proper thoughts. Jaime’s mind must have been wandering down similar pathways as his lips grazed her neck. Brienne could feel him smiling into her skin as he placed a delicate kiss below her ear.

“Little Lord Rickon has stolen you away from me.”

Brienne giggled at the words. Her hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment at the sound. Unfortunately, it was too late. Jaime’s eyes went wide, and a smile stretched across his face.

“What was that? Did the warrior princess just giggle like a maid at a tea party?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Have you been to many tea parties, Ser Jaime?”

Nodding emphatically, Jaime spoke assuredly. “Far too many for my taste. Cersei and I used to switch places when she wanted a go at it in the yards. I had to endure her dresses, septa, and the most dreadful teatime.”

Brienne guffawed loudly and clutched her chest. The thought of Jaime in a dress was too much.

“Does my past torture amuse you, princess?”

Only able to nod as she covered her mouth to prevent further laughter from waking the sleeping men, Brienne looked to Jaime with mirth in her eyes. Her laughter died at the expression on his face. No one ever looked at Brienne so softly as Jaime did; particularly in that moment. Forgetting their surroundings, Jaime leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

The encampment faded away as all things Jaime invaded her senses. Her skin tingled as Jaime’s fingers danced along her jaw. Only the crackling of the campfire reached Brienne’s ears while Jaime’s tongue grazed across her own.

The loud sound of someone clearing his throat echoed off the trees around them. Jaime and Brienne sprang apart; their faces heating at the unexpected visitor. Glancing up, Brienne saw Ned Stark on the other side of the fire. Rickon was in his arms and laying against his father’s chest. Tear tracks lined the boy’s cheeks as he jumped from his Ned’s grasp.

“Brienne!” Rickon came running into Brienne’s awaiting arms.

Speaking as uncomfortably as Brienne felt, Ned offered context for their visit. “Apologies. He had a nightmare and insisted on seeing you.”

_Right. Rickon’s nightmares._

Before Ramsay attacked the castle, Rickon’s nightmares and difficulties falling asleep were soothed only by Brienne. It warmed her heart to feel so trusted by the young boy. Lifting Rickon as she stood, Brienne nodded bashfully at Ned.

“He can stay with me tonight. We have a little routine for such things. I’ll calm him right down.”

From his seated position, Jaime muttered for Brienne’s ears only. “Stolen away by Rickon again.”

Brienne bit back a smile and bid the men goodnight as she moved towards her tent with Rickon tucked safely in her arms. As she passed, Ned smiled warmly and nodded in thanks.

Over the next several days, it was much of the same. Rickon clung to Brienne at night and opted to ride with Brienne during the day. On some days, Rickon rode with Jaime. It was endearing to see how Rickon warmed to Jaime. For Jaime’s part, he quite enjoyed needling Ned about it.

_‘What can I say, Ned? Your child simply prefers me to you.’_

As much as Jaime pretended at being put out by Rickon’s presence, he enjoyed the young boy. During breaks on the march south, Jaime taught Rickon the sword. They looked through the woods for properly sized sticks to use as blades. The sound of Rickon’s laughter filled the air as Jaime would die a most dramatic death at the boy’s hand.

Brienne would clap for Rickon as he stood triumphantly with one foot on Jaime’s chest; his arms raised in victory. The only person cheering louder than Brienne was Ser Barristan who usually encouraged an extra stab to ensure true death. Ned feigned indifference to Jaime's daily death by Rickon’s blade, but the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable.

Soon, they arrived at the Twins. Rickon leaned against Jaime on their shared horse. The young boy laughed loudly as Jaime told the most inappropriate tale of how Ser Meryn once became so drunk that he peed in his helm thinking it a chamber pot. 

“Well, I couldn’t let the opportunity to fuck with Meryn pass.”

“Jaime, language.” Barristan’s tone was reprimanding as he interrupted Jaime’s tale.

“Right, sorry. I couldn’t let the opportunity to fuck with _Ser_ Meryn pass. So I ran into his room, shouting that King Robert had been attacked. The dolt fell out of bed and threw on his armor and helm. You should have seen the look on his face when he drenched himself in cold piss.”

Barristan groaned at Brienne’s side. “Gods, Jaime. You didn’t?”

“Ready at a moment’s notice, Ser Barristan. It is my duty to ensure my sworn brothers are prepared for anything.”

Barristan snorted and tried to hide his amusement. “You’re truly awful.”

“Yes, thank you. A lifetime of practice.”


	35. Catelyn III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn reunites with Rickon. She realizes some truths and is surprised at being one of the last to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today will be a double posting day! Jaime POV to follow this one. I hope to have it up in a few hours once I grab time to edit.

Catelyn stood outside the Twins and awaited the contingent from the North. She smiled widely at the sight of her uncle and husband riding towards them. Her eyes scanned the field eagerly for Rickon. When the missive arrived detailing that he was well and unharmed, Catelyn had wept. Word that Bran had gone to the Wall before Brienne’s arrival was distressing, but at least he was alive.

Like Jon, Bran was either north of the Wall or somewhere along it. Catelyn prayed that Jon had found his brother, or rather, his cousin. The thought kept Catelyn awake at night. She remembered every harsh word spoken and disdain-filled glanced offered.

_I was cruel to him. Cruel to a boy without a mother._

Then Catelyn saw him. Rickon was laughing loudly atop Jaime Lannister’s horse. Brienne was at their side and smiling widely at whatever words were being exchanged. Even Barristan Selmy looked amused; a most curious sight.

_I’ll never grow accustomed to this. Lannisters._

The group approached and Catelyn pulled Ned into a firm embrace. “Thank the gods. When your missive arrived, I could breathe again. The executions?”

Ned sighed and nodded. “It’s done. All the Freys?”

Glancing back at Robb, Catelyn smiled. “Dealt with. The Vale has joined much of our forces near the Crossroads. I suppose I have Tyrion to thank for it.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Ned’s lip. “I fear we have both Lannister brothers to thank.”

Catelyn’s eyes drifted back to the approaching Tarth contingent. Her tone betrayed her confusion. “Why is Rickon with Ser Jaime?”

Putting up a hand, Ned shook his head and sighed. “I don’t understand it. He refuses to leave either of them.”

A light laughter pushed past Catelyn’s lips. “The world has gone mad.”

Catelyn began to step away from Ned and towards the approaching Tarth contingent, but Ned grabbed her arm. “We need to talk immediately before calling in the officers for a war council. There are some things to consider.”

With a lingering look at Ned, Catelyn nodded before moving towards the incoming group. Her steps quickened as she neared Jaime and Brienne. Reaching up for Rickon, Jaime helped the boy into Catelyn’s awaiting arms.

“Momma! I saw the Wall! And Ser Jaime taught me to fight! Brienne sang to me too!”

At Rickon’s excited words, Catelyn noticed how Jaime’s brows rose and he looked to Brienne teasingly. He mouthed the words, but Catelyn could make them out. “Oh? A singing princess?”

A curious look was exchanged between the pair as Catelyn held Rickon close to her. Every part of Catelyn’s soul felt at ease as she held her baby boy. Rickon returned the hug before pulling back to look at her.

“And Ser Jaime made Ser Meryn wear piss.”

Catelyn’s eyes went wide at the words. She glanced at Jaime who snorted and put up a defensive hand. “Out of context, it sounds a bit crass, but it’s a very important life lesson.”

With an unimpressed huff, Catelyn narrowed her eyes at Jaime. “I can only imagine what life lesson that might be.”

“Don’t get drunk and mistake your helm for a chamber pot.”

Catelyn’s face scrunched in distaste. “Gods, Jaime!”

“What? Never happened to you?” Jaime feigned innocence as Catelyn turned towards Brienne.

A warm smile spread across Catelyn’s face as Brienne dismounted her horse and bowed her head in greeting. “Lady Catelyn. I’m glad you’re well.”

With Rickon pressed against her, Catelyn reached for Brienne, wedging Rickon between them. “Thank you. I know what you did for him. He’d not have survived. And no bowing to me! We’re to name you queen soon enough.”

Brienne grimaced at the words; her eyes darting away as they broke the embrace. The group moved towards the castle and Catelyn noticed Ned waiting for them by the doors. Tyrion, Brynden, and Robb were at his side, speaking in hushed tones.

When Ned’s eyes met Catelyn’s, he smiled and reached his hand out for her. “I’d like to speak with all of you before we call that council.”

Catelyn nodded and placed Rickon down as she crouched before him. “Why don’t you get something to eat in the hall. I’ll be right in this study if you have need of me, sweetling.”

Endrew and the Tarth men offered to take Rickon while Ned spoke with Barristan, Jaime, and Brienne. Brynden, Tyrion, and Robb followed close as the group moved into a side study. The room had been used for private meetings with the senio-rmost officers among them. Catelyn took a seat around the table as everyone else did the same.

With a heavy sigh, Ned looked to Catelyn. “I need to tell everyone of it now so we can figure out how to approach the meeting with our officers.”

Catelyn knew what Ned referred to. She took a deep breath and rubbed Brienne’s back as the young woman sat beside her.

Ned told those amassed the truth of Jon and the group sat in stunned silence. When he finished, no one spoke. The room felt too small for the enormity of what Ned shared. Abruptly, Jaime snorted.

“How many hidden Targaryen are you Starks hiding away? Does lady Catelyn have any more hidden under her skirts there?”

Catelyn huffed at Jaime, but in truth, she was starting to wonder herself. Targaryens seemed to be coming out of the woodwork of late; each with greater claim than the last.

A small smile spread across Brienne’s face. She looked at the table and spoke softly. “I don’t need to rule then? I can go home?”

Catelyn watched as Jaime’s head snapped to Brienne. A slight panic was in his eyes, but Catelyn couldn’t place why. If Jon sat on the throne, Brienne would be safe on Tarth.

With resignation in his tone, Ned spoke from across the table. “No, Brienne. Not yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll likely need to wear the crown for at least a brief time. No one has seen Jon since he and a group of rangers rode north of the Wall. If he is dead, you are the heir. If he is not dead, you will need to write the Night’s Watch and formally release him. If he tries to leave without a sovereign’s directive, he could be executed as a deserter.”

Brienne nodded in understanding and sighed. “Very well. I suppose that’s better than being placed permanently on the throne.”

“Again, it is only temporary _if_ Jon lives.” Ned grimaced as he spoke. “I pray he’s alive. I’ve sent two missives to the Wall, but so far, no word. I don’t think we should tell the officers of Jon’s lineage yet. Enough of us know in this room what the plan is. Jon is the rightful heir, and Brienne is in line after him.”

The group nodded in understanding. From the corner of Catelyn’s eye, she saw Jaime’s hand move under the table to Brienne’s. It was discrete, but given her seat beside Brienne, Catelyn noticed it easily enough. Her eyes went wide, and she recalled the strange conversation with Tyrion at the Eyrie.

Barristan rubbed at his forehead before leaning back in his chair. “It makes sense now why Rhaegar insisted on having two Kingsguard placed in Dorne. Two of the best in fact. Lord Commander Hightower and Ser Arthur.”

At the mention of the renowned Kingsguard, Jaime’s eyes narrowed at Ned. “So, you killed two great knights who meant to protect Jon, and for what? For you to protect him instead? What the fuck was the point of that!?”

With a grimace, Barristan reached for Jaime’s shoulder and tried to calm him, but it did not have the desired effect. “What was the point, Ned!? They could be here today guarding him still! Our vows are to guard our king’s secrets. Ser Arthur would have done anything to keep Jon safe from Robert, just as Ser Barristan and I would do anything to keep Brienne safe from my Joffrey and Cersei.”

Catelyn glanced around the room. While they said nothing, it seemed that Brynden and Barristan shared Jaime’s opinion on the matter. Part of Catelyn wished to defend Ned, but the other part of her still struggled to understand _why_ herself.

Ned shook his head. “I didn’t know! I thought my sister had been kidnapped and forced! When I walked into that tower, I had no idea that I was ascending those steps to bid her goodbye as she bled out on the birthing bed. I wouldn’t have… I didn’t know when I fought them outside the tower.”

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “No offense, Lord Stark, but I’ve always been shocked that you managed to kill our best. How many men did you have with you?”

Ned’s hands were folded on the table before him. His head dropped at the question and shook slowly. “It wasn’t by my blade. In the end, it came down to Ser Arthur and me. He was _incredible_ and felled nearly all my men. With a sword in each hand, he cut through them with little effort.”

Catelyn watched as Barristan leaned towards Jaime and nudged him with his arm; a victorious smirk on his face. “ _Two_ swords…”

Jaime rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, but then his smile faded as he glanced at Ned. The room fell silent as Ned recalled the fight.

“I fought with everything I had. He disarmed me and was about to end me, but… unbeknownst to both of us, Howland Reed survived Ser Arthur’s blade. Howland plunged his sword through Ser Arthur’s neck from behind.”

Jaime stood in a rage; his chest heaving with anger. “What!? Coward!”

“Jaime. Sit down. It’s over. He’s gone.” Barristan’s voice was pained as he looked up at Jaime.

“No! For most of my life, this man has condemned me for killing Aerys; accused me of stabbing him in the back as though the act unjust! To be clear, I slit his throat even though he deserved _far_ worse.. Were it not for an actual sword in Ser Arthur’s back, Jon would be well-guarded by the greatest knight, and Ned would be long dead. How is that not hypocritical!? Ser Arthur deserved an honorable death! A clean death.”

Catelyn was shocked at the vehemence with which Jaime spoke. No one spoke or refuted the statement. Brienne stood from her seat and whispered in Jaime’s ear. Whatever words she offered seemed to lessen the storm swirling in Jaime’s eyes. They left the room quickly, but a heavy silence hung over the table.

Barristan offered a weak smile at Ned. “Don’t take it personally. He idolized Ser Arthur. The man knighted him and was the first to believe in him.”

Robb’s ear perked up at that. “Ser Arthur knighted him?”

Catleyn couldn’t help but smile. Even at a young age, Robb had an interest in the great knights. He was skilled with a blade and brave, but he had to work hard at the sword. It didn’t come as natural as knights such as Barristan or Jaime.

With a nod, Barristan confirmed it; a wistful smile on his face. “He was just a squire at five-and-ten. He held off the Smiling Knight in single combat and saved the life of the man he squired for. I’ve seen no equal to Ser Jaime’s skill of his generation. Ser Arthur was the only one who took the time for him when he was raised to the Kingsguard. The rest of us… well… we thought him an incredible talent, but too young.”

Brynden sighed. “Ser Jaime’s not wrong, Ned. It’s quite shit if you think about it.”

Ned ran a frustrated hand down his face. “I know. Trust me, I’ve carried this for nearly twenty years. Everything about that bloody tower haunts me. Howland Reed hides away in his Keep to escape it. I’ll talk to Jaime.”

“No, let me.” Barristan spoke once more. “We don’t need any _incidents_ at camp. I’m not certain he’ll care to see you right now.” 

With a nod of understanding, Ned glanced at Catelyn. “I suppose we should call the officers. We have a war to plan.”

“Does there need to be a war?” Tyrion’s words captured the attention of all assembled.

The words amused the Blackfish. He barked a laugh and leaned back, crossing his arms. “No, of course not. Lets just let that shit nephew of yours sit on the throne a while longer. Perhaps we let your House’s bannermen ride into camp and kill our named queen too.”

Tyrion smirked sarcastically at the Blackfish and mirrored the man’s posture. “Come now… am I truly the only one who sees it?”

Tyrion was met with furrowed brows from those seated around the table. Inclining his head towards the now vacant seats, he raised a brow. “No one? Hello? The dolts in love?”

Catelyn bit back a laugh and looked around the table. The expression on her face was mirrored by Barristan, Brynden, and Ned.

With a light tone, Catelyn chuckled. “They were just holding hands.”

Barristan snorted; the sound echoing off the walls. “Well lovely for you to have endured it for only a few moments. I’ve had to sit through nightly suppers with them, and let me say that Ser Jaime has become quite practiced at eating with his left hand. They must think me too old and blind to have noticed them stealing kisses in every alcove at Winterfell like children of ten might.”

Ned’s chest shook with laughter and he nodded. His usually brooding face was alight with amusement. “Yes, I thought they looked _quite_ practiced at it when I caught them in the act on the road south.”

The Blackfish’s face was red from contained laughter. Catelyn smiled at the sight of her uncle’s levity. It was a rare thing to see him enjoying himself to such an extent. “If those two fools stare any longer, their eyes will dry up and fall out from lack of blinking. It’s been awful. Try sparring with them! It feels as though I’ve wanted into the private chambers of a lord and lady. Needless to say, I prefered riding at the front of the lines with Ned. Far less pining to endure. Gods. You should have seen Princess Brienne’s dramatic rescue by her knight in shining armor.”

“I’m sorry, but are we speaking of _Ser Jaime_ and _Lady Brienne_?” Robb’s voice betrayed his confusion. 

With a hand to Robb’s back, Ned grumbled. “Come now, Robb. You’re a newly married man in a love match. Go spend a moment with them. The rest of us can’t take it anymore.”

“Well… there we have it. No need for a war.” Tyrion clapped his hands together and smiled widely.

Catelyn’s brows furrowed and she stared at Tyrion. The man was one of the most intelligent she had ever known. He always seemed a step ahead of everyone else and this moment proved no different.

When Tyrion was only met with confused stares, he rolled his eyes and huffed. Sliding down from his chair, Tyrion walked to the corner of the room and poured himself a cup of wine. The younger Lannister brother took a sip and began to pace.

“What does my father want more than anything in this world? Power. How does he seek to obtain that power? Legacy. For as long as I’ve been around him, my father has plotted at ways to get Jaime out of the Kingsguard. He has wanted to marry Jaime off and see the next generation of Lannisters fill the Rock.”

Catelyn sighed and shook her head. “Marrying Jaime off does not solve this war, Tyrion. We need to unseat Joffrey, and Tywin will not give that up.”

A knowing smirk spread across Tyrion’s face. “He will gladly replace a _Baratheon_ on the throne with a Lannister. If Jaime marries Brienne, that puts Queen Brienne _Lannister_ on the throne. Sadly, my father would not give up the throne to save Jaime’s life, but he would give up the throne for the Lannister name. Legacy and power.”

_Gods. He’s right. We don’t need a war. We need Jaime and Brienne to marry._

Catelyn glanced around the table. There was a hesitant agreement on the faces of those assembled. Ned was the first to speak. “Perhaps we keep Jon’s lineage between us. Brienne can still recall him if for no other reason than he belongs home and to know the truth; even if it must stay a secret. This could bring peace to the realm. Brienne would make an excellent queen and Jaime a good consort. They could truly unite the kingdoms.”

Catelyn glanced at Barristan and Brynden. Both men were nodding in agreement at the idea. With a toast to himself, Tyrion smiled. “I’ll write to my father. Lets be done with this. I’m not built for army encampments. The bedroll is shit and the whores too few. Now… who wants to tell the happy couple?”


	36. Jaime XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne find out the plan to prevent a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day! Posting this and the prior chapter (Catelyn III POV)

Brienne’s hand rubbed soothing circles on the back of Jaime’s neck as they sat side by side, staring out at the sunset. When the rage had cooled at Ned’s admission, Jaime felt sadness. His idol and the first knight to see his worth was stabbed in the back while guarding his future king or queen, only for the men killing him to seek to offer the same protection.

“You’d have your nephew on the throne and your House wouldn’t be living in fear. Or perhaps you’d be in hiding together. I’d have followed Ser Arthur to protect you. I know Ser Barristan would have too. You could have trained with the best in Ser Arthur. You’d be knocking us all to the dirt by now.”

Jaime spoke wistfully at Brienne’s side. Turning to meet her eyes, Jaime recalled watching Ser Arthur fight. “He was incredible. His swords moved so quickly you could hardly see them were it not for the sun’s rays as it caught the steel. I fought beside him _and_ Ser Barristan. It was… surreal.”

“Jaime.” Tyrion’s voice called out from Jaime’s back. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime saw Barristan and Tyrion walking towards them. The two men moved quickly and stood before them, their eyes darting between Jaime and Brienne.

“We have a way to end this war, but only if the two of you are comfortable with the plan.” At Tyrion’s words, Barristan snorted and rolled his eyes. A fond smile stretched across Barristan’s face as he looked back down at them once more.

After a quick glance up at Barristan, Tyrion addressed Jaime. “Our father will never give up the throne peacefully, unless its to a Lannister.” Tyrion paused and looked between them.

Considering Tyrion’s words, Jaime felt his heart accelerate. He glanced at Brienne, but she only sat staring at Tyrion in confusion. With a sigh and warm smile, Tyrion took a step closer.

“Princess Brienne, will you be my goodsister?”

Realization dawned over Brienne. She glanced at Jaime with a question in her eyes, but all Jaime could do was smile widely. Grabbing Brienne’s hand in his, Jaime hoped that his eyes conveyed all the love he felt for her. He leaned into her ear and whispered.

“Does this count as that marriage rescue? I’ve always wanted a love match.”

Something flashed in Brienne’s eyes. Turning to Tyrion, she shrugged and feigned indifference. “Cersei isn’t really my type, but if it prevents a war, I suppose I can manage.”

Tyrion guffawed and nodded in approval. “I quite like my new goodsister.”

Feigning offense, Jaime tugged Brienne into a hug. “That hurt, princess. I’m the much prettier twin. I think you can do better.”

“Well I suppose it’s for the best that I have my lucky coin then. I hear you’re quite difficult.”

Jaime wanted little more than to spend the night holding Brienne close, but Rickon was quickly at her back and tugging her away. The Tarth guards offered an apologetic glance as Brienne stood and followed Rickon back inside. 

With a loud clap and satisfied sigh, Tyrion smiled at Jaime. “I best write our father. I’ll come find you before I send the missive. It’s best that you sign the letter as well. We’d hate for our lord father to think he is only treating with his great shame.”

Hearing Tyrion speak in such a way was nothing new, but it bothered Jaime. He wished to refute the words and tell Tyrion how much their father loved him, but in truth, Tywin didn’t love any of them. He loved the idea of them. The idea of what advantage they could bring them. The opportunity to ensure his legacy.

Tyrion moved inside and Jaime was surprised to observe Barristan take a seat at his side. “Do I need to worry about you running Ned through with half of his own sword?”

Jaime huffed in annoyance and looked towards the sunset. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did. Ser Arthur would have been honored to die fighting for his king. The death was not honorable as he deserved, but his actions were.”

Barristan draped his arm over Jaime’s shoulders. “Honor Ser Arthur’s legacy by continuing to serve the kingdoms as an incredible knight… and consort.” Barristan’s tone changed as he spoke teasingly. “So self-sacrificing, aren’t you? Breaking your Kingsguard vows again for the good of the realm.”

Jaime bit back a laugh and shrugged. “I am nothing if not selfless. It’s the Lannister way.”

“Gods help me.” Barristan rolled his eyes and sighed. His face fell slightly. “Our Queensguard is going to be shit. You’re the last of the good ones.”

It was still strange to Jaime to receive compliments from Barristan, but it meant the world to him. “I’ll still be guarding her. Just from the other side of the door.”

Barristan hummed as both men stared towards the horizon. “I suppose the pair of you will need to make little knights for me to train. The next generation to keep the kingdoms safe.”

They sat in silence for some time before Barristan stood with a grunt and long stretch. “Come on. We best get inside and see to our princess, or rather, queen.” 

Jaime stood with a sigh, but before he could go inside, Barristan grabbed his arm. “Just remember, it wasn’t Ned who shoved the sword in Ser Arthur’s back. I don’t believe he would have, and I do believe he feels guilt for it all. Try to go easy on him. I’m as vexed as you are, but we can’t change the past. We can only shape the future.”

The words resonated with Jaime. His lips drew into a thin line, but he nodded in understanding. When they entered the castle, Tyrion was marching quickly towards them. 

“Ah, brother. Just the man I was coming to find. Have a look at this and sign it. We don’t want to delay further.”

Tyrion extended his arm and handed Jaime the missive. He scanned the words quickly and tried to consider how it would be received. 

_Father,_

_We have found Princess Brienne Tarth and sit with her at the rebel encampment. The armies grow stronger as does their resolve. House Stark has the Vale._

_I’m afraid your intended alliance with House Bolton and House Frey does not appear promising. Somehow, House Stark anticipated their next move and dealt with them accordingly. Your alliance is with a pile of corpses._

_There is one thing you demanded that will come to fruition however. Your son and heir has found a love match in Princess Brienne. They are to wed, and when they win this war, Queen Brienne Lannister will claim the throne._

_This war can end peacefully if you find value in seeing your legacy sit on the throne rather than fall into the Stranger’s arms. Queen Brienne is a just woman. She will afford fair treatment to Cersei’s children despite the truth in their false lineage to House Baratheon._

_Remove Joffrey Waters from the throne, and we’ll deliver Queen Brienne Lannister and her consort, Ser Jaime. If not, I fear that war may claim much of your legacy. I do wonder though, will your bannermen be able to strike down Ser Jaime? Will the Stormlands be able to strike down Queen Brienne?_

_We await your reply at the Twins; the newly claimed holding of House Stark’s campaign against the crown._

_Yours,_

_Tyrion of House Lannister; Consort Jaime Lannister’s brother_

  
  


Jaime snorted at the last line and raised a brow. “You just had to needle him, didn’t you?”

Feigning innocence, Tyrion put up his hands defensively. “I’m merely reminding him of my brother’s position in this war.”

With a light chuckle, Jaime nodded. “I’ll add a small greeting so he knows this isn’t some ploy on your part.”

Taking the missive into a side room, Jaime found a quill on a corner desk. He quickly scribbled some lines and handed it back to Tyrion who chuckled in amusement. “Now who is the one needling him?”

_Father,_

_I’ve done just as you asked for once. I thought you’d be pleased. I will marry the ‘Tarth girl’. I will bring you the Stormlands… and the Vale… and the Riverlands… and the North. Shall I bring them with smiles or swords? I will not turn my back on House, but will you? You continue to support a false Baratheon king. Those rumors are not rumors, and if Joffrey does not abdicate, I will tell everyone the truth of it._

_Oh and when I am consort, Tyrion will be named heir to the Rock. He is your son._

_Jaime_

“I’m not needling him. For once, I’m doing just as he asked.” An amused smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he watched Tyrion fold the missive and pour wax onto it. Using his House ring, Tyrion sealed the missive; a satisfied hum escaping his lips. 

“Alright brother, lets see how valuable the Lannister name is to father.” Tyrion left the small room and made his way towards the rookery. 

A raven flew out, and four days later, a raven flew back. The Lannister brothers stood assembled in the war council with House Stark and officers from the Riverlands, the Vale, and the North. 

The room held a collective breath as Tyrion stared at the sealed missive. With a deep breath, he opened the letter and read Tywin’s response aloud. 

_Tyrion,_

_Bring Queen Brienne and your brother to Harrenhal. I will bring the Septon. Ser Addam and our officers will be sent to the Twins to provide an escort._

_Regrettably, King Joffrey cannot attend the wedding, but we will return to the city when the wedding is done and he will abdicate. Tommen will be awarded Storm’s End and named Warden of the East, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, as his right. I expect the match between Lord Tommen and Lady Sansa will be honored, just as I expect the match between Lord Robin and Lady Myrcella will be honored._

_House Tyrell will retain their position as Warden of the South, Lord Paramount of the Reach. They should be pleased to have wed a Great House; the last surviving Baratheons. Joffrey and his wife will sit at Highgarden. These are my terms._

_And tell your insolent brother that I’ll see a babe in our queen’s womb by the year’s end. As to his other terms, I would sooner give the Rock to one of your cousins._

_Lord Tywin Lannister; Hand of King Joffrey, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West_

The terms were not perfect, but close enough for those assembled. His father’s words about Tyrion were offensive, but Jaime cared little for Tywin’s agreement on the topic. No matter Tywin’s words, Jaime would see to it that the Rock passed to Tyrion. Offering a sympathetic look to his brother, Jaime tried to convey wordless support. 

Equally irksome, Jaime hated that his kin were still being used as political pieces, but with Brienne as Queen, she could later overrule the decision without Tywin having the ability to do much about it. 

Jaime turned to Brienne and reached for her hand. If House Stark agreed to the terms, she would soon wear the crown and take the Lannister name. Only one of those things brought a smile to Jaime’s face.

He didn’t want Brienne on the throne. No good seemed to come to those wearing the crown, and there would always be those seeking to unseat her. Despite that, the terms offered would save lives and afford the kingdoms a just and honorable sovereign. 

“What if it’s a trap? Tywin Lannister is never quite so accommodating.” Brynden expressed his trepidation and looked to the brothers.

With a nod, Tyrion acknowledged the concern as well-founded. “With my father, anything could be a trap. On this account however, I do think the offer is genuine. He has a thirst for power and will do anything to see the Lannister name extend its reach. His legacy will be made on the throne now; not just at the Rock.”

Jaime hummed in consideration. “If he is sending Ser Addam, he means it. Any other officer would likely be sent to slit my throat. He is choosing Addam to treat with us as a demonstration of that fact.”

“I don’t care for the agreement about Sansa, but we can address that later.” Ned leaned on the table as he spoke. “We should accept the terms. Nearly all we asked for is being honored except for some questionable claims on behalf of House Baratheon.” 

Reaching for a quill and parchment, Tyrion began his letter. “To the Lord Hand of King Miserable Little Shit, First of his name…”

Jaime snorted knowing full well that Tyrion was not writing the actual words. He considered what would become of Cersei. So long as she held any power, Brienne would not be safe. They would need to deal with her accordingly. 

_Perhaps the Silent Sisters?_

Jaime rubbed Brienne’s hand with his thumb absently as Tyrion rambled more madness not likely to see the words in ink. At his conclusion, he stood upright with a sigh. “And now… we wait.”


	37. Bran V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran finds out what is going on in King's Landing.

The chill in the air nipped at Bran’s cheeks and nose. Time seemed nonexistent north of the Wall. All Bran knew was cold. Cold and darkness. While not actually true, it felt as though the sun took shelter earlier in the day than elsewhere in Westeros. They camped early in the evenings and tried to hunt fresh game to energize their weary bodies.

True to Jojen’s words, Bran’s dreams became more intense after moving north of the Wall. The visions were less blurry, and the voices clearer. Staring up at the stars, Bran wondered what awaited him. 

_ Will I return home after finding what my subconscious is seeking that I can’t give name to? Will I stay here forever? Will I see my family again? Will I see Brienne? _

North of the Wall, Bran found that he could encourage his visions rather than merely accept what was forced on him. If he concentrated for long enough before taking rest, he could find the voices he sought most. Of late, Bran sought out his kin and Brienne.

He saw the daring rescue by Ser Jaime at Winterfell. He saw secret kisses and lingering looks. He saw a betrothal. He saw his sisters at White Harbor playing with Myrcella and Tommen. He saw his mother and Tyrion traveling to and from the Vale.

Bran sighed and watched as his breath reached up for the stars above. To his left, the Reed siblings cleaned away the remnants of dinner to ensure a hungry bear didn’t stumble upon their campground in the dark of night. Hodor sat swaying before the fire. He was not fond of the conditions, of that much, Bran was certain.

Closing his eyes, Bran concentrated. Tonight, he didn’t need to see his kin or Brienne. He needed to see the capital. Bran wanted to understand if the kingdoms would indeed find peace. When he fell asleep, Bran’s body began to fly as darkness reached out for him.

A man’s voice.  _ ‘Your little brother is safe at the Twins, my ladies. He is with your brother and parents.’ _

A woman’s voice.  _ ‘And why should I trust you, Lord Baelish?’ _

A man’s voice.  _ ‘My lord Hand, Maester Pycelle to see you.’ _

_ Pycelle. Tywin. I need to see. _

Bran flew forward. His wings proved faster than legs, and in his dreams, visions were fleeting. When Bran entered the light up ahead, he found himself in a study. Tywin Lannister sat behind a desk writing a missive. Without looking up, he called out to the attendant.

“Very well. Send him in.”

The shambling feet of Grand Maester Pycelle dragged along the floor. Still, Tywin did not look up. He gestured dismissively at the chair before his desk, but he continued writing. 

Pycelle sat with a grunt and rubbed at his ancient knees. His chains swayed around his neck as he tried to peer at the massive before Tywin. 

“Did I ask for your aid in reviewing my missive, Grand Maester?” 

The maester startled at Tywin’s words. While the head of House Lannister had not looked up from the parchment, he eyed the maester quickly through his lashes. 

“No, my lord. I only meant to inquire if you’ve heard from Ser Addam’s contingent. Have they found your sons, Lady Sansa, Prince Tommen, and Princess Myrcella.”

Placing down the quill, Tywin leaned back and crossed his arms. “I fail to see how that is any concern of yours. Are you our Master of War?” 

When Pycelle stammered, Tywin cut him off. “You are to tend to the health and wellness of the royal family. You are not to concern yourself with matters of war. Now, speak to me of our queen. How was the exam?”

Straightening in his chair, Pycelle nodded stiffly. “I can confirm that she is with child, Lord Hand. Roughly two moons by my estimate. It is likely she conceived around the time of the wedding, just as you demanded of them.”

“Good. Has she written to Lady Olenna of her suspicions?”

Pycelle shook his head in refute. “No, my lord. I’ve only just left our queen. She seemed surprised herself. I believe she assumed the moon tea untampered with.”

“You will keep this information to yourself for now. Go.”

Bran took steps forward and peered over Tywin’s shoulder. He read the letter as Tywin continued to lean back in his chair; his brows furrowed in contemplation. 

_ Addam, _

_ You and a dozen of your best men will meet with Jaime at the Twins. You’ll be given safe passage under banner of truce. Escort Jaime, Princess Brienne, and their host to Harrenhal. Tell no one of your orders except the men you bring with you. Leave Ser Daven in charge.  _

_ No one is to harm any among the group you escort. I will meet you there in a fortnight, and then we will escort the group to King’s Landing.  _

_ Lord Tywin Lannister; Hand of King Joffrey, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West _

Abruptly, Tywin looked up at Pycelle as the maester reached the door. “One more thing.”

At Tywin’s words, Pycelle paused and turned to face the Lord Hand. 

“Take these missives to the rookery. See to it they go out immediately.”

Pycelle bowed and stuttered in reply. “Yes, Lord Hand.”

Bran watched as Pycelle took the missive after Tywin folded and sealed it. The first missive handed to the maester was the one that Bran had read over Tywin’s shoulder. Below that missive was another, already folded and sealed. The second missive was addressed to the Citadel and piqued Bran’s curiosity. 

_ Can I follow Pycelle? How far can I extend the vision? _

Bran tried to follow, but the room began to fade to black. In a panic, he ran towards the door and kept his eyes fixed on Pycelle. Bran concentrated with everything that he had. It felt as though he was struck by lightning and Bran’s body began to twitch from the pain shooting throughout his limbs.

Something began to shake his shoulder vigorously. “Bran. Wake up. Bran.”

_ No. I have to stay. I need to stay longer.  _

Bran squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself back to sleep; back to Pycelle and away from the voice calling his name. 

When he opened his eyes, Jojen was staring down at him. “Bran. You were convulsing. You stayed too long. Your body isn’t ready yet.”

Bran was panting as he sat upright. Something about the missive felt too important to ignore. Appraising the area, he could see that they were still at the campsite. Judging by the night sky, he had not been asleep for too long. 

“I have to get back. I need to see more.”

Jojen moved back to his bedroll and shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. You can’t force the visions to extend. We take the glimpses we get.”

_ That’s not good enough. I need to see more. My friend’s life is at stake.  _

Bran laid back down and stared at the sky. With a heavy sigh, he tried to focus on the capital once more. He had to return and better understand what was going on. Sleep did not come as easily the second time. When it did, there were too many voices. 

A boy’s voice.  _ “My seed is strong like father’s. I’ll fill this Keep before the war is won. Grandfather’s men are useless, and my uncles are traitors.” _

A woman’s voice.  _ “Loras? Loras are you in here? Please. Please, speak to me.” _

A woman’s voice.  _ “I’ll have our king execute you if you don’t let me see those missives.” _

_ The missives! I need to see.  _

Bran flew quickly towards the light. The room was dark and two figures came slowly into view. Things were still blurry as Bran tried to force his way forward. Rubbing his eyes, Bran saw Cersei and Pycelle standing before one another.

“I was given strict orders by Lord Tywin.”

“And I am the queen mother. My son has little tolerance for such insolence. I’ll read those and then you’ll be on your way with them. We’ll not speak a word of this to my father.”

Pycelle handed the missives to Cersei with great hesitance. Snatching the missives from him, Cersei snarled at the man before appraising the letters. She opened the missive to Ser Addam first. Her brows furrowed at the lack of context. 

With a huff of frustration, Cersei opened the next letter which was addressed to the Citadel. Ban pressed close and read the missive as Cersei did.

_ Let it be known that King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name, will be abdicating the throne to the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen Brienne Lannister of House Tarth. She is the daughter of Queen Rhaella Targaryen and Lord Selwyn Tarth.  _

_ King Joffrey recognizes her lineage and has legitimized her as Brienne Targaryen before her wedding to Ser Jaime Lannister. Let it be known that he abdicates to save the realm from unnecessary war. He and Queen Margaery will take their rightful place as Lord and Lady of Highgarden, and become Warden of the South.  _

_ Lord Tywin Lannister; Hand of King Joffrey, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West _

Bran’s eyes went wide.  _ He truly did accept the offer. Not surprisingly, he is spreading his reach and power in the process. Joffrey in the Reach, Tommen in the Stormlands, and Myrcella in the Vale. Then he’ll leverage Sansa for the North while having Lannisters on the throne. _

Without a word, Cersei walked towards the roaring fire and threw the missives into the flames. Pycelle gasped and ran to the fireplace. Desperation gripped Pycelle as he tried to salvage the parchments. A flame licked at Pycelle’s skin before the maeaster could grab the rapidly curling edge of a letter. 

“Those were missives from the Lord Hand!”

“And now they are gone. Pity. You should truly be more careful about where you set missives down. I’ll not tell my father that you destroyed such important orders with your carelessness.”

Cersei raised a knowing brow. Stammering in reply, Pycelle’s face flushed with irritation. He began to protest once more, but Cersei snarled again.

“I said go! Quickly, before I inform our King that you defied my orders.”

Wordlessly, Pyelle left the room. Cersei began to pace wildly and Bran could see her thinking over the matter. Something struck her and she fled from the room. Once more, Bran tried to give chase, but the vision faded to black. 

  
  


Bran awoke with a start. It was daylight and he was back on the makeshift sled as Hodor pulled him forward slowly. For the next day, Bran was unable to force a vision of King’s Landing. He heard other voices. Voices to the far east. Voices north of the Wall. Voices south of the Wall. Two days later, Bran was able to find his way back to King’s Landing.

A man’s voice.  _ ‘I’d prefer execution to the Kingsguard. I’ve nothing to fight for. My king is dead.’ _

A girl’s voice.  _ ‘Yes, m’lord. Me dad said as much when he returned home from the Wall with the boy ya had them deliver. They got the new queen ready to move south now.’ _

A woman’s voice.  _ ‘As I said, you’ll get Ser Gregor after this is done; not before.’ _

Bran knew the woman’s voice. Cersei’s voice. He ran towards the light; his heart pounding in his chest. When he entered the room, Bran stood before a feast. King Joffrey, Queen Margaery, Lord Tywin, and a man in Lannister colors who looked like Tywin.

Tywin looked unimpressed as he appraised the table. Attendants placed down platters of food and scurried to ensure the king’s every command was met.

“Hurry up! I should have been given more soup by now! I am the king!”

Tywin huffed and rolled his eyes. “Any man who must say ‘I am the king’, is no king. This feast is wholly unnecessary and I need to ride out early on the morrow to tend to matters of war.”

At Tywin’s side, the man who bore a striking resemblance to the Hand spoke. “We’ve not enough coin for this waste. The gold mines run dry, and House Tyrell has not sent additional coin as promised.”

A solemn looking Margaery lifted her eyes from her lap. “My grandmother will send more shortly. I’ve just written to her at your request yesterday.”

Someone in the corner of the room shifted on their feet. Bran’s eyes flitted to a Kingsguard who looked familiar from earlier visions. 

_ He lost to Brienne in the melee. That’s Loras Tyrell. _

Beside Loras, Meryn stood cockily and eyed one of the serving girls. His lascivious stare caused bile to rise in Bran’s throat. The girl looked little more than two-and-ten as she trailed an older woman.

ABruptly, the door opened to reveal Prince Obeyrn and Cersei. The pair walked in and took their seats as Tywin huffed in annoyance at their obvious tardiness. Before he could complain, Joffrey spoke dismissively. 

“Enough of this. We’re not here to groan about the crown’s purse. We’re here to celebrate my accomplishment. I’ve put the heir to the Seven Kingdoms in my wife’s belly. Bring me some wine, Lancel! My father had the right of it. You’re entirely useless.”

The man beside Tywin stiffened and anger spread across his features. Bran watched as Lancel moved quietly to the king and refilled his cup. While there, he filled Cersei’s and Oberyn’s cups. As the last drop fell into Cersei’s cup, she tilted her head and raised a brow at Lancel.

“Go get  _ more _ . My father and uncle will have a toast with us. This is a momentous day for the kingdoms and this ridiculous war to the north pales in comparison to our king’s accomplishment.”

Lancel’s eyes went wide. He moved slowly to the corner table where he had retrieved the first pitcher. Placing down the empty jug, Bran noted the conflict in Lancel’s eyes. Lancel took a deep breath and walked towards Tywin with the second jug in hand. He poured the cup as Cersei smirked from across the table. Lancel began to pale slightly; his eyes darting to the man at Tywin’s side.

Bran’s brows furrowed as she saw tears coat Lancel’s eyes. Swallowing down any protest, Lancel moved towards the second man who was clearly another Lannister. Lancel’s hand began to shake as he raised the pitcher, but then he paused. Abruptly, he dropped the pitcher of wine and grabbed his arm in pain. The jug crashed to the floor and startled Margaery. 

As wine splashed all over the floor and the man at Tywin’s side, Lancel looked nervously to Cersei. His eyes shone with fear as he stammered an apology. “I’m so sorry, my lords and ladies. My arm… a pain shot through it.”

“Bloody ridiculous.” Tywin muttered as he reached for his cup of wine. “At this rate the Rock will pass to Joy Hill.”

Joffrey stood from his seat and raised a cup to those assembled. He had a cocky smirk on his face as he appraised his wife before speaking.

“While all my uncles proved worthless traitors, I will ensure a dynasty to rival the Targaryens. A toast to my cock in all its glory.”

The man at Tywin’s side sighed. With fatigued eyes, he looked up at Lancel. “I don’t much care for wine anyway. Go on. Get the staff to clean this up. I’m going to find some dry clothes.”

Tywin grumbled at a nearly inaudible level; his voice dripped with sarcasm. “After that toast? Not even a cup?”

“Uncle Kevan, come and toast. You drink in honor of your king!” Cersei called out angrily. “Have some of my father’s. He never finishes his wine anyway.”

The man narrowed his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ve things to attend to on behalf of  _ his Grace _ . Littlefinger left us in quite the debt and I have much work to do.”

Without awaiting dismissal from Joffrey, Kevan stormed out. It was only a moment later when chaos ensued. Tywin began to cough lightly, his hand moving quickly to his neck as though he could wipe away the tickle in his throat.

Tywin reached for his cup to wash down the tickle in his throat, but he only spluttered more. As Tywin’s coughing intensified, all eyes fell on him. Each cough grew louder, and each action to remove the discomfort appeared more desperate. Tywin stood and leaned over the table. His eyes grew frantic as the Stranger's fingers encircled his throat.

Glancing to his kin, Tywin locked eyes with Cersei. Emotionless eyes met him; dead, green eyes. Oberyn sat silently beside Cersei with a small smirk on his face. 

Joffrey shot to his feet in a panic. “Grandfather! Guards! Help him! Help the Lord Hand!”

The boy’s concern appeared genuine. His eyes were wild as he shoved past his wife’s chair to get to Tywin. Both Tyrells stood frozen in shock. It was Ser Meryn who ran into the hall and called for the maester. 

Upon Meryn’s return, Tywin slumped to the ground. Bran wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were wide as he stared down at the head of a Great House struggling for breath. The man had seemed larger than life to Bran. Tywin commanded his House as he did men on a battlefield, but now he was being snuffed out by a tickle in the throat.

Tywin’s eyes were wide and turning red as his face purpled. A froth formed at his lips and his body convulsed. As more staff scrambled into the room, Cersei sprang to her feet and made a scene of it. Feigned distress, emotionless tears streamed down her face.

“No! My father! Help him! He can’t breathe! Please!”

Joffrey clawed at his grandfather’s chest as he pleaded with the man to stay with him. Slowly, Tywin raised a finger to point at Cersei; his voice escaping him. A circle of onlookers formed around Tywin as life left his body. 

Glancing up as though Tywin’s accusatory finger was not directed at her, Cersei snarled and pointed at Lancel.

“You! You did this! You killed my father! You poured his wine! Ser Meryn, arrest him!”

Lancel began to walk backwards as he stammered. “What!? No! It wasn’t me! You did it as you did Robert!”

Cersei screamed over Lancel’s confession. She flailed dramatically and pounded her father’s lifeless chest. Grabbing Lancel, Ser Meryn pulled him from the room. 

Bran’s eyes scanned the space and landed on Loras. It was as though the newly appointed Kingsguard had seen a ghost, and he stood rigid in place. Then something flashed in his eyes as he stared at Cersei. Distrust.

Resolve replaced a blank stare as his eyes moved towards his sister. He moved to her side as more Kingsguard ran into the room.

“The queen shouldn’t see this. I’ll take her to the Royal chambers. The stress isn’t good for the babe.”

Ser Boros stood by the king as the boy sobbed over his grandfather’s body. The retreating screams of Lancel echoed off the Keep walls as Ser Loras guided his sister from the scene. 

_ There will be no peace now. Cersei won’t stop until the throne is uncontested. _


	38. Jaime XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group at the Twins awaits word from Tywin. When none arrives, they know something has gone wrong.

Their group awaited word from the capital detailing instructions for when to move out. As Tywin had the longer journey, they expected a reply or approach by Ser Addam’s escort. Days passed and no letter came. Jaime thought it odd, but his father always did things on his time and terms.

When near a fortnight passed with no word from Tywin nor sighting of Addam’s group, Jaime knew that something was wrong. Rumors swirled through the Twins as a breeze would rattle leaves in the woods. Then a cloaked figure approached on horseback surrounded by Robb’s lookouts. It was sundown on the fifteenth day since Tywin’s last missive, and Jaime felt a sense of dread set in.

“I bring word from the capital.” The familiar voice dismounted and moved quickly towards the Starks, Brienne, Barristan, and Jaime. 

_ This can’t be good.  _

The rider pushed back his cloak and raised his head to meet the eyes of those standing before him. Flushed cheeks and a bald head greeted them as Lord Varys took a step closer. 

“I would speak with you in private. I fear that the words I must share are neither fit for raven’s wings nor the open air.”

Jaime walked into the study being used as a war room at the Twins. Varys stood at the center of the table. Gathered around the table was Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Brynden, Barristan, Jaime, Tyrion, and Brienne.

“The Lord Hand is dead; poisoned by his kin.”

At the information Jaime swayed on his feet as the world shifted below him. Worried eyes glanced at him and Tyrion before Varys continued his update. 

“They’ve charged Lancel Lannister with the crime, but my little birds tell me that Lancel was merely the hand to pour the wine. The directive came from _someone_ else.”

_ Cersei. Of course it was her. I’d expect no less. _

Whispering for Jaime’s ears only, Brienne leaned into his side. “Are you alright?”

Jaime felt as though he had stumbled into a fog from which there was no way out. He stood in a stupor as though Varys’ words were spoken in a foreign tongue. With a slight shrug, Jaime stammered in reply.

“I don’t… I think so?”

Jaime could feel Brienne staring at him, but everything seemed so far away. Lifting his gaze to Varys, Jaime furrowed his brows; a question on his face.

_ I don’t understand. My father is untouchable. Indomitable. How could Cersei do this? Our father… the only parent we had left, even if a shit of a man. _

Glancing to his left, Jaime’s eyes landed on Tyrion. A strange expression lined his brother’s features. He was neither happy nor sad. Like Jaime, Tyrion seemed lost. Turning his attention back to Varys, Jaime noted how weary the man looked. Dark circles lined his eyes as he addressed the room.

“They prepare for war in King’s Landing. Dorne, the Reach, and the West have been called to the city for defense. They have called the Stormlands as well, though my sources tell me the kingdom is unlikely to answer the crown.”

“You’re certain?” Ned’s tone was cautious as he appraised Varys.

The Spider smirked and glanced at the Lannister brothers. “It was my suggestion to Lord Tyrion that Ser Jaime take the children through the northernmost gate moons ago. I had Gold Cloaks from the Stormlands stationed there. There is little love for the crown in the Stormlands. They are bitter at the fall of House Baratheon; those with  _ true  _ claim. My little birds bring word between Lord Selwyn and I. He is amassing an army of Stormlanders to join your cause. They await word for when to march on the capital. I hear he goes by Ser Ronnet now.”

Jaime snorted and glanced at Brienne. She bit back a smile and looked to the floor as Jaime leaned slightly into her side. 

Varys spoke again, providing additional information. “King Joffrey has named Cersei as Lady of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. She has also been named Hand of the King, and ordered the arrest of Lord Kevan Lannister who fled to the West to move the army against her. Further, she and King Joffrey have called for the heads of… Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion.”

Forgetting himself, Jaime guffawed. A fit of laughter shook his body, but only Tyrion shared in his delirious mix of amusement and shock. 

_ She’s truly lost to me. Who is this woman? How could I love her? How could I have wasted so many years at her side? She’s worse than father. She’s Aerys and father rolled into one chaotic mass of hate and selfishness.  _

It was Tyrion who spoke on their behalf. “The West will never bend to Cersei when their heir is still alive. My brother will lead now. He can remove the West from the field.”

Jaime stopped laughing. His demeanor shifted and he shook his head stubbornly. “I am not the heir. You are. Kingsguard serve for life.”

Tyrion slowly looked to his right and met Jaime’s eyes. “If you were at the Wall or in Essos, the West would still look to you. Father made certain that they saw me as little more than a monstrous, ill-suited inconvenience. Lead them, Jaime. For our queen.”

Jaime didn’t want to lead the West. He didn’t want to be Lord of Casterly Rock. He wanted to be a great knight like Ser Barristan and Ser Brynden. There was a time when he would have taken the title and lands as Tywin wanted, but that faded away when Cersei whispered in his ear. 

Now, Jaime wanted to marry Brienne and, gods willing, live at her side with a brood of little knights. Between himself and Tyrion, Jaime knew that he lacked the mind for politics. 

Unlike Tywin and Tyrion, Jaime preferred his enemy standing before him with a weapon in hand. Things were simpler in battle. You drew your blade and cut through those opposing you. At court, nothing was as it seemed. Tyrion understood the game. He found loopholes and strategic approached where Jaime saw none. 

_ Why didn’t father take the time to see Tyrion? Our House would be whole and powerful if only Tywin accepted Tyrion and recognized his talents.  _

Sadly, Jaime knew Tyrion’s words to be true. Tyrion deserved the land and titles, but Tywin saw to it that the West would never acknowledge his youngest child.

With a deep breath, Jaime muttered. “Please, Tyrion. Don’t make me do it.”

Jaime prayed to the Seven that Tyrion understood.  _ Don’t make me cut her down. Don’t make me give the order to kill my twin. She may want my head on a spike, but I just want peace. _

Ned sighed and looked to Jaime sympathetically. “Can you have the West stand down? I’ll not ask you to fight your sister. I only ask that you neutralize them.”

At Ned’s words, Barristan spoke from across the table; his eyes sympathetic and his lips turned down. 

“We can’t risk our queen in the battle. Would the West help you? Let the North, Riverlands, and Vale fight for the crown. Keep the West from the field, and use them to protect our queen.”

Jaime turned his head to meet Barristan’s gaze. It struck Jaime then that Barristan did not ask out of need, but out of care. He understood the pain it would cause Jaime to fight his House; to fight his twin and son.

In a mix of shame and relief, Jaime closed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll take her to the Rock and recall the Westerlands army to ensure they stay out of the battle. Your allied forces need only contend with the Reach and Dorne.”

Everyone assembled seemed to think it the best idea. Everyone except Brienne.

“I want to fight. Let me fight for Jon’s crown.”

Jaime’s eyes looked questioningly to Brienne. “ _ Jon’s _ crown?”

With a slow nod, Brienne glanced at those assembled. “Well… with the agreement between us and your father no longer valid, I just assumed…”

At the words, Varys leaned on the table. The Spider’s brows furrowed as his gaze narrowed. “Jon?”

A heavy sigh pushed past Ned’s lips. He shared the truth of Jon’s lineage and unknown status north of the Wall. For his part, Varys only sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. With a conciliatory nod, he glanced at Brienne before speaking.

“In truth, I came here to back Princess Brienne’s claim. I trust her House and my concern is for the security and safety of the people. Were it not for her, I would likely be on my way to Essos to treat with Daenerys Targaryen. It seems anyone would make for a better sovereign than Joffrey.”

Ned nodded and sighed. “Yes, we’re lucky in that regard. Both Brienne and Jon would make worthy rulers. By right, the crown is Jon’s. We had only tried to place Lady Brienne above him to appease Lord Tywin. With no peace to bargain for, we are once more able to put Jon on the throne… if he lives. Brienne will be next in line should Jon no longer draw breath. All the more reason to keep her safe! Brienne, you cannot go to the city. If Jon is dead, you are all we have!”

“Actually, there is another with claim.” Varys spoke slowly as he leaned back; his arms crossing over his chest. “Robert’s last living bastard, Gendry. I had him escorted to the Wall. We can recall him when the war is won.”

A gasp pushed past Ned’s lips. “You saved him? I’m surprised they missed him. He… gods. He looks like a young Robert or Renly.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Varys revealed his plot. “I had him brought north with a brother from the Night’s Watch who came looking for recruits. Just a moon turn ago, I received word that he arrived safely. I don’t know if Westeros would accept him. Jon and Lady Brienne have been raised by noble families. They understand what is expected of them, how to rule, and the challenge of court. Gendry is lowborn and holds lesser claim than either Jon or Brienne.”

Varys sighed and glanced around the table. A momentary silence fell over the room as everyone absorbed Varys’ words. Jaime watched as the Spider’s brows furrowed in contemplation. Watching Varys’ mind work was like watching Tyrion work out a scheme.

Then something flashed in Varys’ eyes. Glancing around the table, he nodded as he spoke. “It’s a simple enough solution, really. If Jon lives at the Wall, we will name him king, of course. If however he does not, we unite the realm through a marriage. Two bastards born to sovereigns. House Targaryen and House Baratheon united; Lady Brienne and Gendry.”

“No!” A collective cry assaulted the Spider from Catelyn, Ned, Barristan, Tyrion, and Brynden.

At the response, Jaime bit his lip and glanced at Brienne. He could feel the stares of those assembled as all eyes flitted to Jaime and the woman he loved. Clearing his throat, Barristan broke the momentary silence and answered Varys’ unspoken question.

“Marriages do as much to unite the realm as wars. Who are you seeking to appease from such a union? Do you think the realm will care if Rhaella’s illegitimate daughter marries Robert’s illegitimate son? Let our princess wed for love if she must wear the crown. Neither she nor the realm gain anything from the match with Gendry.”

Varys huffed. “It appeases those who think the Targaryens hold no claim when they were defeated by Robert. It appeases those who think Robert’s war unfounded and rule should return to House Targaryen. It’s an easy enough solution and they’re of the same age.”

This time, it was Catelyn to interject. “Brienne is  _ not _ a Targaryen. She is a  _ Tarth _ . Gendry is  _ not _ a Baratheon. He is a  _ Waters _ . I concur with Ser Barristan. Jon will take the crown if he lives, but if not, Brienne will choose her husband. Gendry is third in line. I’ll not abide by an arranged marriage for Brienne. She deserves love.”

Catelyn offered a warm smile at Brienne. Her eyes darted quickly to Jaime before settling back on Brienne. A small smile tugged at Barristan’s lips when he glanced at Jaime. The renowned knight offered a small nod of his head before looking back to Varys.

Jaime’s hands were clasped behind his back as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Brienne. Mirroring his posture, Brienne’s hands were clasped behind her back as they stood in the small study. Slowly, Jaime reached across to Brienne’s hands. He slipped his right hand into her left, lacing their fingers together. 

It was then that Jaime realized how tired he was. He was tired of politics and scheming. He was tired of cruel sovereigns ruling the kingdoms. He was tired of other people deciding his life for him.

Leaning against Brienne, Jaime whispered. “I’ve had enough of this.”

With a nod, Brienne squeezed his hand at her back. She tilted up her chin and spoke to the group. “So the plan is to fight for Jon’s crown. If he is not alive, I will have to rule?”

With a nod, Ned confirmed Brienne’s understanding. “Yes. I suppose the change now is that we ask Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion to withhold the West from battle and take you to the Rock.” Ned’s eyes darted to Jaime and Tyrion. “And you’re certain that’s safe?” 

Jaime considered who was at the Rock and a smile spread across his lips. “My aunt would no sooner support Cersei than she would Aerys. I’ll send word to Ser Addam’s group. We’ll return to the West until the battle is done.”

Brienne’s hand tugged Jaime from his spot in the room when he received little more than nods of agreement. When they stepped outside, Jaime sucked in a deep breath. Sagging into Brienne, she wrapped her arms around him; her voice a whisper in his ear.

“I’m so sorry about your father. I’m sorry you’re now in this position against your sister and…  _ nephew _ .”

Jaime held Brienne close and breathed in her scent. The feel of her arms around him was calming and grounding. “It’s fine. All that matters now is keeping you safe. They should have enough to win the war if I can withhold the West. You’ll be safe there. The West never much cared for Cersei, and my aunt won’t back her.”

Brienne nodded in understanding. She glanced around, biting her lip in contemplation. “I’ll send Ser Endrew and the guards to collect Myrcella and Tommen. They should come with us. We’ll take care of them.”

Jaime sagged against Brienne. The appreciation and love he felt for her was all-consuming. That she would welcome his children born of incest with open arms meant the world to him. While Jaime never felt the children his, he did feel an obligation to keep them safe. He would do anything to ensure their well-being at the end of the war.

“Thank you. I’ll speak with the Starks. I imagine they mean to collect Arya and Sansa too. Perhaps they can all make the journey together before we ride out.”

Jaime’s hand came to Brienne’s cheek. He stroked her soft skin with his thumb while looking deep into her eyes. 

“If Jon is alive, do you think he would release me?”

It hurt to voice the question. He wanted nothing more than to be released from his vows and wed Brienne. If her reaction was any indication, Brienne had not considered the consequences of another taking the throne.

“Perhaps Lord Stark could speak on your behalf.”

Jaime felt his eyes cloud with tears. It wasn’t the realization that his father was dead or the pain of his sister’s cruelty that tore at his heart. It was the thought of not calling Brienne his wife that broke him. 

_ The ultimate cruelty. I thought to be at a sept with Brienne by now. Instead, I’m to play Kingsguard to Ned Stark’s bastard turned Targaryen.  _

“I can’t… please don’t leave me.” Jaime pulled Brienne close and buried his face into her neck. “I’m so tired.” 

The fatigue was from more than the day. It was a lifetime of stress, tension, and unrealistic expectations weighing down on him.  Brienne guided Jaime towards his room. The halls were relatively empty. Both Barristan and Jaime had been assigned chambers near Brienne as they had been at Winterfell. Ser Endrew and Tyrion had rooms nearby as well while the rest of the men set up tents outside the castle. 

When they entered the room, Brienne instructed Jaime to change for bed. Jaime felt in a daze as though his body was not his own. The day had been overwhelming and the longer he remained awake, the more Jaime’s mind and body cried out for rest. While Jaime removed his jerkin and boots, Brienne tended the fire for him. 

Jaime smiled at the domesticity of it.  _ I should be sharing this with her after saying our vows. Cersei ruins everything.  _

With a heavy sigh, Jaime removed his tunic. In only his breeches and smallclothes, he climbed into bed and watched the fire outline Brienne’s body. His voice was teasing as he called out sleepily. 

“I’m meant to be guarding you, but you’re taking care of me.”

When Brienne finished stoking the fire, she moved towards the bed. “My father was not killed by my own sibling. I was not asked to rule my ancestral home and wage war against that same sibling.”

Of course there was more to it than that. Jaime knew Brienne left out the most unfortunate part. Cersei was not just a sibling. She was a woman that Jaime fucked for much of his life. A woman he put three bastards in. 

Shame and regret coursed through Jaime’s body as Brienne sat on the edge of his bed. “If you ever need to talk about it…”

Jaime snorted, but reached out for her hand. “He was a shit father. I don’t mourn him as I should, but he never looked at me as though I was my own person. I was just a possession. A thing for him to dangle before the West and kingdoms as a means to garner more power.”

Pulling Brienne down, Jaime surged forward and pressed his lips to hers. Brienne returned the kiss, but she pressed Jaime back onto the bed. The feel of her fingers grazing his side and back made Jaime sigh into her mouth.

Brienne rubbed soothing circles on his body, and Jaime felt himself sink into the bed. There was something comforting about her touch; something Jaime hadn’t experienced since he was but a boy and his mother still alive. 

His eyelids felt heavy and his body an anchor that moored him to the bed. When he raised his arm to reach out for Brienne’s face, it felt heavy as a pile of bricks. The words spilled haphazardly from his lips as he drifted to sleep. 

“I won’t let go.”

The next day, a light knock roused Jaime from sleep. Glancing to the window, Jaime saw the sun’s rays pouring in. 

_ Gods. How long did I sleep for? _

Jaime threw on his tunic and padded to the door. When he opened it, Jaime was surprised to see Ser Barristan on the other side. The older knight smiled and stepped into the room. 

With a heavy sigh, he turned and faced Jaime. “How are you feeling?”

Jaime scratched his head and glanced at the window. “I hardly know anymore. Alive?”

Barristan grimaced slightly and encouraged Jaime to sit at the table in the corner. “I’m sorry about your father.”

It seemed strange to receive condolences for a man that made everyone so utterly miserable. After taking a seat, Jaime shrugged and picked at the wood grain that ran through the table. “No need to be. He was not a pleasant man.”

Barristan hummed and studied Jaime. “I spoke with Lord Tyrion last night. He had few fond memories to share. Was Lord Tywin never kind to you?”

A light laughter shook Jaime’s chest. “If by kind you mean that he kept me alive, then yes. If by kind you mean loving, then no. Lannister men aren’t meant to feel such weak emotions.”

Tywin was not a man who appreciated softness. On one occasion, Jaime had made the mistake of weeping in front of his father. It did not end well. 

“How old were you when your mother died?”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed in consideration. It had been so long, though if he tried hard enough, he could still smell the blood in the air. “Seven.”

Barristan sighed and leaned against the table. “So you had no one then?”

As much as it shamed Jaime, he admitted the truth. “I had… Cersei.”

Jaime recalled his mother separating them not long before her death. When the staff caught Jaime and Cersei impersonating animals mating, Joanna was furious. 

_ If my mother didn’t die, would we have stopped? Would we have had normal lives? _

Jaime only remembered feeling alone, and Cersei being there. She told him that they were two halves of a whole. Born together, die together. He believed her, though whether out of emotional need or genuine desire suddenly seemed very unclear. 

Barristan’s voice broke Jaime from his thoughts. “I’ll not see you fight in this war. It will break you. Guard the princess with your life. We don’t know if Jon is alive at the Wall, and while I’ll fight for his claim, it may be Brienne that takes the throne.”

Jaime shook his head. “I should fight beside you. I can have Tyrion and my men safely escort her. They’re good men; particularly Addam. They’ll keep her safe.”

It hurt to think about fighting against Cersei, but Jaime wanted to fight for a worthy king or queen. He meant to uphold his vows and fight beside his Lord Commander. A warm hand cupped Jaime’s chin and captured Jaime’s attention. 

Unlike when Tywin grabbed his jaw and squeezed, Barristan’s calloused grip was gentle and caring. 

“You’ve done enough. It’s safe to say that you’ve done more in a year than most do in a lifetime. Go to the Rock and guard Brienne. We must guard the heirs. I will fight for Jon’s crown. You protect the second in line.” Barristan tilted his head and repeated his words. “You’ve done enough.”

The older knight stood and placed his arms around Jaime. “Now behave yourself. I’ve met your aunt a few times. She’ll put up with none of your nonsense.”

Jaime snorted and nodded as Barristan stepped back from the embrace and patted his shoulder. In truth, a visit to his aunt was just what Jaime needed. 

That morning, Catelyn shared that they sent guards ahead to collect all the children from White Harbor. With knowledge that Tommen and Myrcella would arrive in a week, Jaime considered the path to Casterly Rock. It would take nearly three weeks from the Twins. Aside from an escort of Westerlands soldiers, they would have the Tarth guards to help safeguard Brienne, Tommen, and Myrcella. 


	39. Brienne XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and her group leave the Twins to move towards the Rock.

Jaime’s lips seemed everywhere at once. The sensation was dizzying as Brienne’s back pressed flush against the wall. It had been almost a week since Varys arrived with word from the capital. The escort from White Harbor would arrive soon with the Stark and Baratheon children.

Brienne’s fingers dug into Jaime’s back as he held her right leg over his hip. Both were fully clothed, but his arousal pushed hard against her core. Only moments earlier, they had left another war council. After conferring with the other officers, Jaime planned to split the West’s bannermen into three groups.

The first group would form a blockade at the Neck. Jaime feared that if the crown won, they would move North to kill the Starks and find Jon if word got out about his lineage. The Westerlands would afford time for the Starks to flee, and, gods willing, Jon to get to them. Catelyn planned to return to Winterfell with her daughters and Rickon. There must always be a Stark at Winterfell, and now there would be four.

Ned was immensely grateful to Jaime for the added protection at the Neck. He and Robb would be moving south with the Vale, Riverlands, and North to fight for Jon’s crown. While the odds looked favorable, the Lannister brothers were quick to warn everyone of Cersei’s cunning.

_ ‘Cersei would rather die on the throne than surrender it. She will stop at nothing to win this war. She will try anything.’ _

The second contingent of Westerlands bannermen would form a blockade where the Crownlands abutted the West. Like the contingent safeguarding the North, the men forming a blockade at the easternmost edge of the West would ensure that the crown could not get through to the Rock.

Lastly, the remaining contingent would guard the Rock and Brienne should they need to flee across the Narrow Sea. It was a worst-case scenario plan, and Jaime prayed it didn’t come to that. He had been in correspondence with his aunt who was at the Rock, and she was fully supportive of breaking from the crown. Her reply confirmed that the West identified Jaime as their lord, and they blamed Cersei for the death of Tywin.

Once the plans were shared in council, Barristan asked Jaime to guard Brienne while he remained behind to discuss the siege plans with Ser Brynden, Ned, Robb, and the senior most officers. Brienne had to bite back a laugh at Barristan’s request. If there was one thing that Jaime enjoyed doing, it was taking solo shifts guarding Brienne.

They made it back to Brienne’s room while keeping their hands off one another. Once the door closed however, Jaime took full advantage of his assignment. Their lips and hands explored one another’s face and body. Brienne could never get enough of Jaime’s touch despite exchanging nothing more than kisses since Winterfell. Unexpectedly, Jaime lifted Brienne off the floor and carried her to the bed. 

The act startled Brienne and she clung to Jaime’s shoulders. “Gods! You’ll break your back!”

“I’m strong enough.” Jaime’s tone was teasing as he lowered Brienne onto the bed.

Climbing between her legs, Jaime found her lips once more. His hips thrust forward and drew a deep moan from each of them. Their time alone had always been filled with passionate kisses and sweet caresses, but nothing so wanton as what they were doing now.

“Seven hells. Jon better release me.” Jaime grumbled into Brienne’s cheek as he pushed forward again. The feel of his hard cock rubbing against her pelvis felt incredible. All the layers of clothing between them were irksome as Brienne reached for his face.

A loud knock caused them both to still. Panic shone in their eyes as the impropriety of the situation hung heavy over them. Jaime pushed off the bed and grimaced as he looked to the door. Turning to Brienne, he whispered and inclined his head towards the table and chairs in the corner.

“Perhaps sit down and look occupied.”

Brienne quickly moved from the bed and straightened the furs. As Jaime stepped towards the door, she grabbed his arm.

“What?” Jaime’s brows furrowed in question.

With a pointed look at his tented breeches, Brienne spoke in hushed tones. “Shouldn’t you do something about that?”

“What do you want me to do? Cut it off?” Jaime huffed and tried desperately to adjust himself.

Moving towards the door, Jaime grabbed a jug of water from a side table. He positioned it on front of his cock and glanced at Brienne with a smirk. Brienne bit back a laugh as she sat in one of the chairs. Straightening her clothing and hair, Brienne looked to the door and clearend her throat.

As Jaime opened the door, a wave of relief hit Brienne. Tyrion moved in wordlessly; a smirk on his face as he noted the jug that Jaime was holding in front of him.

“I thought I might find the two of you here. Luckily for you, I told Ser Barristan that I would track you down. The escort from White Harbor approaches.”

Brienne smiled excitedly. She was eager to see Arya and Sansa before they moved north with Lady Catelyn. “Thank you! We’ll head down to the courtyard.”

Tyrion nodded and raised a teasing brow at Jaime. “Gods, I am so parched…”

“You’ll not find any wine in here. Perhaps the hall.” Jaime spoke quickly in reply. His underlying words were clear.  _ Leave now, Tyrion _ .

“Oh, that’s quite alright. Just some water will do.” Grabbing an empty cup off the table, Tyrion extended his arm and smiled widely.

“It’s empty. I was just going to fill it for Brienne.”

Tyrion hummed and placed the cup down. “Huh. Truly? It seems  _ quite _ full. I’ll see you in the courtyard. Hopefully your cock doesn’t precede the rest of your body’s arrival.”

Tyrion left the room and Brienne couldn’t help the laughter pushing past her lips. Stalking towards her in contrived offense, Jaime put down the jug and raised a brow.

“Are you laughing at me, princess?”

Brienne’s eyes dropped to his breeches. He was still half hard, but the look in his eyes suggested it wouldn’t take much to renew the  _ problem _ . Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Brienne stood and chuckled.

“No. We have to go to the courtyard.”

Jaime smiled like a lion stalking its prey. Trying to run past him, Brienne felt a strong arm wrap around her body. Jaime’s strength always took Brienne by surprise. When he pulled her back against his chest, Brienne could feel the smile on his lips when he kissed her neck.

“I prefer standing guard inside your room to escorting you into public areas.”

Brienne smiled and turned in his arms. The look in Jaime’s eyes startled Brienne. It still shocked her to see anything other than repulsion in a man’s eyes. Her body was built for war, not love. All Roelle’s lessons in life reiterated as much. All prior interactions with men confirmed her words. Brienne took a steadying breath and cleared her throat.

“If Jon is alive and takes the throne, I don’t want you to feel obligated to… consider me. I understand it was just an opportunity to end this war peacefully. I’m… I know that I’m not pleasant to…”  _ Look upon. _

Before Brienne could continue, Jaime’s lips were on hers. Unlike his previous kisses which were hungry and lustful, this was tender and gentle. Breaking the kiss, Jaime rested his forehead against hers.

“Were you saying something? I’m fairly certain you  _ weren’t  _ going to say something absurd devaluing yourself. You never listen to me, do you? Didn’t I tell you that a lion does not…”

“Concern himself with the opinions of sheep.” A smile tugged at Brienne’s lips as she recalled their dance at Renly’s feast. “And I told you, that I am not…”

“You should be. If I have it my way, you will be. Now hopefully Jon cooperates. I would hate to do something horrid to get myself forcibly released, but I’m not above such an act.”

Jaime smirked before placing another kiss to her lips. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed Brienne’s hand. “I suppose we should get to the courtyard.”

The walk to the courtyard was like most of their walks. Jaime placed lingering touches on her arm, hand, and back. While their affection for one another was no secret, there was still the complication of Jaime being a Kingsguard and Brienne being an unwed noblewoman.

Jaime didn’t wish to sully her reputation by leading anyone to believe he had dishonored her. Despite the newfound regard for Jaime’s efforts during Robert’s Rebellion, it was still true that Jaime had cuckolded a king and lay with his sister. At night, he ranted to Brienne about his false love for Cersei. He worried that Brienne’s association with him would only harm her own reputation.

When they arrived in the courtyard, Tommen and Myrcella were already speaking excitedly with Tyrion. From what Brienne could tell, they quite enjoyed the stay with Arya and Sansa at White Harbor. The eldest Stark sister looked to the children fondly and smiled as Tommen and Myrcella shared their adventures with Tyrion.

At their arrival into the courtyard, Sansa ran towards Brienne and hugged her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re alive. I was worried about you when I heard that you went north for Bran and Rickon.”

Brienne smiled warmly at Sansa and shook her head. “I was quite lucky in truth. I had the best of Tarth, Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, and your father’s forces to keep me safe.”

With a small nod, Sansa’s eyes watered. “I just… I’ve learned a lot since Winterfell. I was cruel to you then, and I’m sorry for it.”

Brienne shook her head and smiled. “I’ve experienced cruel, and you were not. We’ve both learned a lot, though I worry that your lessons were harsher than my own. I had to learn that people are much more complex than the box I tried to fit them into. I’m sorry that your lessons were learned with cruelty. I wish I could have done more for you.”

Sansa hugged Brienne once more; her arms wrapping tightly around Brienne’s large frame. Before Brienne could recover from the shock of it, Arya was at their side. The young girl began speaking eagerly about her training with Lord Manderly’s guards. She took out her sword, Needle, and began to show Brienne the moves she learned.

Jaime had been speaking with Myrcella and Tommen, but the flash of Arya’s sword caught his attention. With an amused smile, he moved towards the girl. He grabbed Arya’s wrist as it twirled in the air, catching Arya by surprised.

“I’ve seen sewing needles larger than this.”

Arya rolled her eyes and yanked her arm away. “I’m going to be a great knight like Brienne someday.”

“Arya, I’m not a knight. Women can’t be…”

Before Brienne could finish her sentence, Jaime interjected. “Not yet, but Princess Brienne is bound to be a knight. She didn’t perfect her skill with a sword such as that. You need a larger sword, or you’ll only be able to cut down blades of grass.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide, but Arya spoke before Brienne could form a reply. “Truly? She can be a knight of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne as a smile stretched across his face. “If a miserable shit like Meryn Trant can be a knight, then surely one of the best swordswomen and most honorable women in Westeros can be.”

Arya gaped at Jaime and spoke rapidly. “Can you train me too!? Can I come to Casterly Rock?”

Biting back a smile, Brienne’s eyes darted to Lady Catelyn in the distance. She was speaking with Lord Manderly’s escort in hushed tones; her eyes spoke to the appreciation she felt for their efforts. Brienne glanced back at Jaime as he stammered in reply and looked around for Ned or Catelyn.

“Uh… perhaps talk to you parents about that. I think you’re to go north.”

Finding an escape, Jaime quickly called out for Tommen and Myrcella. When the young children came over, Brienne offered a warm smile.

_ Gods. They look like him. Beautiful children. Would he want children with me someday? Would he be disappointed when they don’t look like these children? _

“Tommen. Myrcella. This is Princess Brienne.”

At Jaime’s words, Tommen bowed his head and smiled widely. He appeared a carefree child and Brienne found his innocence endearing. Glancing at Myrcella, Brienne noticed the slight smirk on her face.

_ She looks like Jaime when she makes that face. _

“Did you tell her that you love her, Uncle Jaime? That’s what you’re supposed to do when you rescue the maiden! That’s what the books say.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the young girl’s comment. As her jaw hung open in shock, Brienne glanced to Jaime. It was the first time she saw him truly caught off-guard. His face reddened to match the color of his House’s banners.

At Jaime’s hesitance, Brienne felt her insecurities kick in once more. “Your uncle is a great knight. He saved me and there really isn’t anything more to it.”

“If the gods deem me worthy, I hope you’ll call her aunt someday. I’m a Kingsgaurd though, Myrcella. I would need to be released by a king or queen.” Jaime ignored Brienne’s reply and looked at Myrcella with a small smile.

It wasn’t long after that they prepared to move out. The Starks pulled Brienne and Jaime aside before their group set out to meet with Addam’s contingent. Catelyn stood before Brienne with warmth in her eyes and worried words on her lips.

“Stay safe. Please, don’t go doing anything foolish. Let our forces win this war. If Jon isn’t alive, you’re our new queen.”

Brienne nodded in understanding, but inwardly she prayed that Jon was well at the Wall. With a heavy sigh, Catelyn glanced at Jaime.

“I don’t know what to say for all you’ve done.”

Jaime crossed his arms and huffed. “You can make it up to me by keeping your brooding husband away from me. He’s terribly annoying. A true inconvenience to me.”

Biting back a smile, Catelyn hummed before pulling Jaime into an embrace. Her voice was thick with tears as she whispered. “Thank you for saving my daughters and my  _ inconvenient  _ husband.”

Jaime seemed startled by the embrace. For a moment, Brienne thought he might respond sincerely. Of course, she was wrong. When Catelyn collected herself and stepped back at Ned’s side, Jaime grinned and teased Ned.

“What can I say? First your children prefer me to you, and now your wife does. You can hardly fault them for it.”

“Oh shut up, Jaime.” Ned’s eyes narrowed, but he took a deep breath and sighed. “Try not to get yourself killed or stabbed again. We’ll see you in the city soon enough. I’ll see to it that Joffrey and Cersei are dealt with nobly. We’ll imprison them and afford them fair trial for their crimes.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched and any mirth in his eyes died. He nodded slowly and glanced to the ground. “Thank you.” 

As the Starks moved away, Barristan stepped forward and smiled warmly at Brienne. “I don’t need to tell you to stay safe, princess. You have the best protector with you in Ser Jaime.”

Turning his attention to Jaime, Barristan raised a knowing brow. His tone was as fatherly as ever. “ _ Behave _ , Ser Jaime.” Brienne could see Jaime trying to hold in a laugh as he feigned agreement. Stepping closer, Barristan put a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. Fondness flooded his eyes. “You know the plan if our siege fails. Take her somewhere safe.”

Jaime’s face lost its mirth once more. “Of course.”

Barristan exhaled audibly. “You’ve made the Kingsguard proud; restored honor to it. Ser Arthur himself would be singing tales of all you’ve done. Don’t think otherwise.”

Stepping away from them, Barristan walked quickly towards Brynden and Ned as they prepared to head south down the kingsroad. Brienne didn’t need to look at Jaime to know that Barristan’s words had moved him. 

For as much as Jaime played at indifference and hid behind snarky remarks, he was a man who longed for acceptance and love. Jaime cleared his throat and guided Brienne towards the smaller contingent that would escort them to Addam’s encampment. The Tarth guards, Jaime, and twenty of the allied soldiers would ensure Brienne, Tyrion, Tommen, and Myrcella moved safely through the kingdoms.

They set out immediately and Brienne felt a pang of guilt for sitting out from the fighting. The men moved south in her name; most among them not knowing of Jon’s claim. Along the journey south, Brienne rode near the children, Tyrion, Pod, and Jaime. Tyrion regaled the children with amusing tales to keep them distracted from the war to the south.

Both Jaime and Tyrion tried to shield the children from the truth of it, but there was no hiding what was going on. Their mother and brother stood in the direct path of war. Tommen was very attached to Tyrion and spent much of the time asking him questions. Tyrion’s squire, Pod, was an affable young man. As they rode south, Pod inquired after Brienne’s training. He was impressed to hear that she fought beside Ser Barristan at Winterfell.

It was on the second day of the journey that Pod asked Brienne if she might train him. The request caught Brienne by surprise.

“Oh, I’m not a knight. I just know how to swing a sword.”

Pod shook his head as though it mattered little. “But you fought with Ser Barristan. He said you were incredible. I saw you spar Ser Jaime last night! I’d be honored to learn from you.”

Brienne agreed to the request and Pod’s face lit up as though he had been knighted by Barristan himself. She committed to training Pod in the morning and afternoon. It seemed a good place to start considering he still struggled to control his horse.

Then there was Myrcella. The young girl didn’t say much to Brienne during the first couple of days, but she stared at her a lot. When most people stared at Brienne, it was with repulsion or jest. When Myrcella stared at Brienne, it was curious and innocent.

On the fourth day of their travel, Myrcella approached Brienne as the group stopped to take lunch and tend to the horses.

“So, you’re to be queen they say?”

Brienne fidgeted nervously. She did not want to lie to the girl, but she also did not wish to discuss the war to come. “That is the intention. Hopefully all will be resolved peacefully.”

The girl’s face dropped, and she looked away. “It won’t. My mother won’t let Joff give up the throne. It’s all she ever cared about.”

Brienne’s jaw dropped at the words. She glanced around, desperately trying to find Tyrion or Jaime for aid. “She loves you and your siblings too.”

“No. I think she loves us as Grandfather did. She loves what we can bring her.” Myrcella’s lips turned down and Brienne felt an overwhelming sorrow for the girl.

Brienne shifted closer and met the girl’s eyes. “Your uncles love you very much. Look at how important it was to them to take you from the city.”

At the words, Myrcella perked up. “I love Uncle Tyrion. He has always been good to us even though mother hates him. It’s stupid really. They would make great friends if she didn’t hate him for things he can’t control.”

With a small smile, Brienne nodded. “Your uncle seems like a wonderful man. Very smart and caring. A bit funny, though I don’t think all of his japes are quite so appropriate for your ears.”

Myrcella chuckled and whispered conspiratorially. “He always told me the best ones when he thinks mother couldn’t hear.”

Brienne chuckled at the words. “Yes, I imagine he did.”

“I know Uncle Jaime cares for us, but he never really talks to us. I know why, but maybe now he can. Now that everyone knows.”

_ Oh gods. _

Once more, Brienne looked around desperately trying to find one of the Lannister brothers. Tyrion was off with Tommen and Pod as the young boy hopped on the rocks along the riverbed. Jaime was speaking with Endrew about something in the distance; neither man noticing Brienne’s plight.

Looking nervously at Myrcella, Brienne feigned at ignorance. “I’m not sure what you mean, but I know he loves you. He’ll protect you both.”

“You know. Everyone does. It’s why they’re going to make you queen. I always wondered. He looked strangely at mother sometimes, but… it isn’t anything like how he looks at you. And… you make him smile. Mother never did. He only looked sad or angry. I hope they let him marry you.”

The words took Brienne’s breath away. She sat gaping at Myrcella. Taking a deep breath, Brienne found her words.

“Sometimes people say cruel things. I’ve had all manner of hurtful words spoken about me, but you shouldn’t let the things that people say about you make you feel unloved or unworthy. I’ve learned that lesson quite recently myself. My father once told me that words are wind. Unfortunately, sometimes the wind causes quite a lot of damage; like during storms. They can hurt you and leave a trail of destruction. What is important though is that you surround yourself with good people who see your worth and love you. Listen to their words and push away the bad. You and your brother are good people and you’ll grow up to do wonderful things. Don’t others make you feel badly about who you are. You should be proud. Your father is an incredible man.”

Myrcella smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. “I hear some of the things they say. We’re bastards. Bastards born of incest. The worst kind”

“So am I.”

Myrcella startled. Her eyes went wide as she looked to Brienne. “You’re not born of incest, but Uncle Tyrion told me that you are, technically, a bastard.”

“My mother was a Targaryen. That House has  _ quite a lot _ of incest in it. While my mother and father weren’t siblings, my mother’s parents were and many generations before them within the same line. True, it isn’t a particularly  _ good  _ thing, but it doesn’t make the children born of incest bad people. And…”

What Brienne meant to say next word hurt to speak aloud, but she wanted to make Myrcella feel better about herself.

“… while you and I are technically bastards and are the product of incest, we were both born from two people’s love. Surely that can’t be bad.”

While Jaime no longer loved Cersei, he had. Brienne wanted Myrella to understand that, even if Jaime and Cersei should not have slept together. Whether Cersei ever truly loved Jaime felt debatable, but Brienne didn’t want to split hairs where it concerned Myrcella’s self-worth.

Myrcella smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I’m glad that my  _ uncle  _ has you now.”

Without another word, Myrcella stood up and kissed Brienne on the cheek before running off to play with Tommen, Tyrion, and Pod. Brienne startled at the girl’s affection before she stood up from her seat. As she looked across the clearing, she saw Jaime staring at her as Endrew retreated towards the rest of the Tarth contingent.

He looked slightly stunned, but a smile spread across his face. Averting his eyes, Jaime moved back towards the men to encourage everyone to prepare to move out. 


	40. Jaime XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's group moves southwest and soon arrives at the Rock.

It took a week to reach Addam’s encampment from the Twins. On approach, Jaime hoped the men would honor Genna’s word and not Cersei’s orders. While his aunt offered her reassurance in missives, Jaime felt it best to approach cautiously.

When the lookouts saw him riding at the front of the lines, they called out and set Jaime’s mind at ease. “Our lord is here! Get Ser Addam!”

The lookouts guided Jaime’s small contingent through the Westerlands encampment. A wave of relief passed through Jaime as he realized the implication of their position.

_ If they are here, that means they did not move east to engage Ned’s group along the kingsroad. _

When a flash of red hair stormed out of a crimson tent, Jaime smirked. Glancing back at their group, Jaime nodded at Tyrion and Brienne to indicate all was well. Addam approached quickly and barked orders at his men to get water and food for the arriving party.

Addam’s eyes met Jaime’s and he spoke teasingly. “Our lord has arrived, albeit slowly as ever.”

Quickly dismounting, Jaime moved towards Addam with a smirk on his face. The two embraced and Addam guffawed as he stepped back and clapped Jaime’s shoulder. “Still all in white. Defiant to the end.”

“Yes, well someone has to be the disappointing Lannister. I aim to please.”

Looking back at the group, Jaime couldn’t suppress the soft smile at the sight of Brienne dismounting her horse. She hovered back with the Tarth contingent, but Tyrion quickly approached with Tommen, Myrcella, and Pod.

“Addam! Good to see you, though it will be better to see you when we’re back at the Rock. How soon can you get us there? I’ve had enough riding and camping for a lifetime.”

With a knowing smirk, Addam had one of the officers take the children to a tent befitting their station. Addam guided Jaime and Tyrion towards the officers’ tent, but Jaime called out to Brienne and Endrew to join them.

At their approach, Jaime guided them to the tent that Addam and Tyrion had entered. The tent was ornately decorated in typical Lannister fashion. No one could ever accuse the Lannister army of being without their comforts and pride.

“Addam, this is Ser Endrew; Master of Arms for Tarth. And this is to be our queen, Princess Brienne Tarth.”

Brienne flushed at the introduction and shook her head. “I’m not a princess. Just Brienne will suffice.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Jaime’s lips as he looked to Addam and shrugged. His friend’s lips shook slightly at the effort of holding back a laugh. A knowing brow raised at Jaime before Addam addressed Brienne.

“Well then  _ not _ Princess Brienne, welcome to the might of the Rock. I understand we’re to play a rather large escort to your group. Genna expects us home by supper in a week’s time, though she forgets herself with age. It’s a fortnight to the Rock from here.”

Tyrion snickered at the words. “Oh I’m certain her expectations are not born out of forgetfulness, but preference. For once, I agree with her. My body was not made for this much riding and camping.”

“We’ll make it there soon enough, but there’s been a change of plans.” Jaime looked to Addam’s board as he spoke. He provided orders for how the men were to be distributed.

A loud guffaw pushed past Addam’s lips. “So we’re to play guard to the bloody Starks now. We’ve spent the better part of a year trying to introduce them to the Stranger.”

Jaime sighed and shook his head. “Yes, well I spent nearly twenty years daydreaming of ways to have Ned Stark lead the way into the Seven Hells. Things are  _ different _ now.” 

With a shrug, Addam dramatically moved the pieces around. “Have it your way. I imagine you’ll want to leave straight away?”

Jaime glanced at Tyrion, Brienne, and Endrew. All three appeared as fatigued as Jaime felt. With a nod, Jaime confirmed as much. “Our group can ride ahead. I highly doubt there is any threat to concern ourselves with in the Riverlands and West. The sooner we get to the Rock, the better we can prepare should the crown win this war.”

_ The sooner I can get some proper alone time with Brienne. _

“I’ll divide the men. Myself and a dozen of our guards will join your group. Genna would have my head if I didn’t safeguard her favorite Kingsguard and newly made lord of the Rock.”

“Tyrion is to be lord of the Rock, Addam. You’re as forgetful as Genna. I hold no lands.”

With a nod of feigned agreement, Addam patted Jaime’s shoulder and moved to exit the tent. “Whatever you say,  _ my lord _ .”

As discussed, they were ready to move out after taking lunch. Their group set out at an agreeable pace. Jaime felt a sense of relief to be headed to the West. He could better protect Brienne from familiar lands and with supportive vassals.

Loathe as Jaime was to admit it, he worried about the siege on King’s Landing. He wanted their forces to win, but he wondered at what cost and with what outcome to his sister and  _ nephew _ . The first night they made camp, Jaime decided to occupy his mind to keep from despairing.

Cockily walking up to Addam with Endrew and Brienne at his side, Jaime took a bite out of an apple and smirked at his friend. “Addam, how about a friendly wager?”

Addam’s brow rose in challenge and he straightened to full height. “You know how much I enjoy taking your coin. What is it?”

Jaime looked to Brienne and smiled as he spoke. “I’ll bet you a  _ gold dragon _ that Princess Brienne beats you in fewer than a dozen moves.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. She spoke through gritted teeth for Jaime’s ears only. “Are you mad? He’s commander of your army? I can’t beat him, let alone in a dozen moves.”

“No? Don’t you have our lucky coin?” The mischief in Jaime’s eyes sparkled as he continued to stare at Brienne.

Addam guffawed and nodded emphatically. “Having your princes do your dirty work, I see.” Smiling at Brienne, the redheaded knight unsheathed his sword. “I do hope you’ll pardon me for your looming loss, your Grace.”

Before Brienne could reach for her sword, Jaime unsheathed his. He smiled and handed her the Valyrian steel; her eyes betraying her surprise. 

“The coin?”

Brienne smirked and flashed the gold dragon in her pocket. “You’re standing in my way.”

“Oh, apologies. I’ll go find a perch to enjoy our victory.”

Endrew and Addam backed away as Addam and Brienne lined up opposite one another. With a bow of his head, Addam grinned at Brienne. “I do hope the Stormlands offers more of a challenge than the North and the Riverlands.”

The words were enough to trigger a spark in Brienne’s eyes and Jaime bit back a laugh. He had expected that Addam would make some comment to earn Brienne’s ire. Still, Jaime opted to provide more encouragement.

“Careful, Addam. You don’t want her to do to you, what she did to Meryn Trant.”

And off she went. Brienne sent a torrent of blows Addam’s way. The knight was back on his heels in an instant, caught off-guard by her sudden ttack. All the training with Jaime, Brynden, and Barristan showed in Brienne’s movements. Brienne’s swordsmanship had reached a new level, and Jaime couldn’t wait to see Addam’s reaction.

_ Ten moves. She knocked him to his ass in ten moves. Gods, I love her. _

“Yield?”

Addam stared up at Brienne as though he’d seen the ghost of Aerys himself. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “Are you certain you want to sit that on that awful throne? We could use some proper knights in our army. Yield.”

Extending a hand to Addam, Brienne smiled. “I have as much desire to sit on the throne as I have desire to host tea parties or sewing circles.”

Addam chuckled and accepted the offered hand. Dusting himself off, Addam glanced at Jaime. “She’ll beat you soon enough.”

“I already have.” Brienne walked to Jaime and handed him the sword back.

Jaime snorted and tilted his head in question. “Oh? Was I asleep when you put a sword to my neck?”

“Winterfell. You yielded in the yards when I was training with Jon.”

An amused hum rumbled in Jaime’s chest. “Oh. Are we counting your lessons on how to hold a sword and position your feet properly? Do you fancy a rematch?”

“I’ll wager you a gold dragon.” Brienne’s tone was challenging as she tilted her chin up.

Jaime stepped close to Brienne; a fond smile on his face. “I fear that I already gave away my gold dragon, princess.” Leaning in, Jaime whispered for her ears only. “I’d still love a dance though.”

Brienne’s cheeks flushed and she averted her eyes. With a small nod, they moved into position where Addam and Brienne had previously sparred. Jaime could see the concentration on Brienne’s face. A smile spread across Jaime’s face at her determination. Her resolve was as endearing as her innocence.

“Kick his ass, your Grace!” Addam’s shout nearly broke Brienne’s concentration as a small laugh pushed past her lips.

Jaime spoke with a teasing lilt as he smirked at Brienne; an undercurrent of lust touching his tone. “I’d love that,  _ your Grace _ .”

In a flash, Brienne’s sword was taking aim at his head. A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as they began their dance. With Brienne, there was no count of moves. Their bodies immediately fell into a rhythm and responded to small tells from the other. Limbs moved as fluidly as the steel kissing the evening air. Shimmers of light from the campfire touched the blades and made each appear ablaze.

Jaime felt his blood pumping as he parried and countered Brienne’s blows. Her skill had improved greatly over the many moons they had come to know one another. Aside from Barristan, no one gave Jaime a greater challenge. At several points, Jaime nearly landed a victorious blow, but she surprised him by countering with smooth deflections and twists of the wrist that she could have learned only from Barristan.

_ She is quite the student and Barristan has much knowledge to share.  _

Their bodies began to move faster, and their strikes came together harder. Their blades kissed more ardently than lovers in a secret alcove. All Jaime could see, feel, and hear was Brienne. The space around them faded away as he concentrated on her body; the sword a mere extension of her arm. Ducking and maneuvering around one another, each manipulated the sword in ways most knights could not. Then abruptly, the match ended.

“Yield?”

Brienne stood panting in front of him with Jaime’s gifted dagger raised to his throat. It took a moment for Jaime to realize his mistake at close range. He had not anticipated a dagger in a spar with swords.

A shy smile stretched across Brienne’s face as she used Jaime’s words against him. “You should wear a proper dagger at your hip when you train. A sword might not be ideal for close range.”

It took everything in Jaime not to surge forward and kiss her. Jaime’s eyes lowered to Brienne’s mouth. He licked his lips as his mind wandered to past moments shared with heaving chests and lustful stares. Swallowing thickly, Jaime whispered, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“I yielded to you some moons ago, though if it requires repeating… yield,  _ princess _ .”

Loud cheering cut through the trance they were in. Looking around, Jaime realized that they had drawn a large crowd. Both of their faces flushed slightly at what felt a rather intimate moment witnessed by most of their group. Brienne stepped back and averted her eyes to the forest floor.

Glancing to the area that Addam and Endrew had been watching, Jaime noted the reactions of the men. Endrew appeared in shock, but a hint of pride touched his eyes as he looked to Brienne. Judging by the look on Addam’s face, Jaime knew he would be in for an earful. Of course, Tyrion was right at Addam’s side with a knowing smirk face.

The two men began walking slowly towards them. Addam clapped slowly and raised a knowing brow. “I daresay I’ve never seen the Young Lion yield to  _ anyone  _ before. Quite impressive.”

Brienne’s blush deepened at the words. With a small shrug, she spoke humbly as always. “I cheated. We don’t introduce daggers into sparring. That was unworthy.”

“That was perfect. An earned victory.” Jaime rushed to reassure her. He watched as she bit her lower lip in response. Every part of Jaime ached to draw her thick lip into his mouth. Endrew quickly joined the men and asked for a spar with some of Tarth’s guards. Always eager for a spar, Brienne agreed which left Jaime with Addam and Tyrion.

_ Seven help me. I’ll not hear the end of this. _

With a heavy arm around Jaime’s shoulders, Addam steered him towards the officers’ tent. The knight peered over his shoulder and smiled at Tyrion. “Lord Tyrion, I do hope you’re in the mood for wine. I had the men take a few flasks before we moved out.”

They moved into the tent and Addam immediately procured one of the mentioned flasks. Pouring them each a cup, Jaime groaned inwardly. Unlike his siblings, Jaime was not fond of wine or ale. He drank during feasts of course, but it otherwise dulled the senses.

Taking a seat, Addam slid two cups across and patted the table in invitation. “Well that was  _ very _ interesting. I have to say, I don’t know if our new queen will release you from the Kingsguard, but it strikes me there is another kind of release you would seek from her.”

Jaime shut his eyes and grumbled. The conversation was headed in the very direction he feared most. At Jaime’s side, Tyrion sat down and took the offered drink eagerly. A pleased expression lined Tyrion’s face as he glanced between Jaime and Addam.

“I never much cared for swordplay, but now I wonder if I’ve been missing out. After that spar, I need a cold bath, brother.”

A longsuffering sigh pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s a maid and your future queen. She deserves respect.”

Leaning back in his chair, Addam crossed his arms and studied Jaime. “You love her.”

_ Oh gods. Not again. _

Jaime huffed and glared at Addam. “I am a Kingsguard and I do not…”

“Never stopped you before.” Addam interrupted Jaime’s retort. Despite the secrecy of Jaime’s illicit affair with his twin, Addam always knew. Jaime’s childhood friend had accused him of as much over the years. He never judged Jaime as the rest of the realm was certain to, but Addam tried to steer Jaime away from it. 

Addam knew both twins for many years, and he never believed that Cersei was right for Jaime. It was a difficult opinion to voice when Jaime was convinced of his love for Cersei, but Addam always implied that Jaime could do better. That he  _ deserved _ better.

Removing any jest from his tone, Addam met Jaime’s eyes. “I’m happy for you. From what little I’ve observed of her, she seems kind and unassuming. Not power hungry.”

“She’s not.” Jaime immediately concurred to ensure Addam understood just how true the statement was. “She’s both of those things and honorable, loyal, and brave.”

Addam’s smile widened as a hint of jest returned to his tone once more. “And she really knows her way around a  _ sword _ .”

With a warning glare, Jaime watched as Addam raised a defensive hand. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. In truth, she’s incredible with a weapon. Won’t you enjoy making a pretty little consort.”

Jaime huffed and shook his head. “It’s all a bit complicated really. Not so straightforward as it seems.”

Glancing to Tyrion, Jaime noted his brother’s exaggerated nod. The younger Lannister raised his eyes towards Addam and gave him the context that Ned’s senior most officers possessed. 

“Someone has greater claim that we seek to place first. Until we confirm his whereabouts, Brienne will take the throne. That information isn’t to leave this tent, however. We didn’t want to confuse the armies over who they fight for.”

The brothers filled Addam in about Jon Snow and watched as shock clouded Addam’s features. “Gods. How many bloody Targaryens are there?”

“Brienne is a Tarth. I hope for her sake she stays as much.” Jaime sipped his wine and twirled the stem of the cup between his fingers.

Addam snorted at Jaime’s words; his arms crossing as he leaned back in his chair. “Already looking to abandon the West that you’ve not officially returned to.”

The prior conversation with Barristan played out in Jaime’s mind. Not knowing what would become of him frustrated Jaime. He hoped to be honorably dismissed from the Kingsguard so that he could court Brienne, but he feared that would never come to pass. The realm would need a strong Kingsguard if Jon took the throne. With a change in power, the West would be more apt to follow Jon if Jaime served at the king’s side.

“Jon might not release me.”

Addam tilted his head in disbelief. “The Jaime Lannister I know would follow love to the ends of the world and back again. You’re just going to let her walk away if Jon won’t dismiss you?” 

Addam knew Jaime as well as Tyrion. They had been close in youth, and his friend could read him as Tyrion could a book. On this matter, Jaime would take a different approach than his reckless love of years past.

“I’ll not dishonor her. She deserves to be respected; not seen as a whore.”

Addam’s eyes narrowed and he huffed a laugh. “This one truly is good for you. You remind me more of the  _ true  _ Young Lion now. The boy I grew up with. I was worried after Aerys that I may never meet him again. I quite missed my old friend. For your sake, I pray Jon releases you honorably. You’ve had enough shit for one lifetime.”

The men spoke a while longer on varying topics concerning the West, though they all avoided the topic of Tywin. While the West mourned their leader, Addam knew the truth of Tywin and how he treated his children. Addam always respected Tywin and ensured the men behaved in kind, but Addam thought that both Jaime and Tyrion deserved better.

Over the next several days of travel, Jaime chuckled as the men from the West tried, and failed, to best Brienne with the sword. Jaime’s chest swelled with pride as he watched her confidence grow. Not surprisingly, the Lannister bannermen loved Brienne. They were impressed by her skill, but she was also warm and humble; qualities they were not often exposed to on account of Tywin’s  _ enduring _ legacy.

Both Tommen and Myrcella were quite taken with Brienne too. After Jaime noticed Myrcella and Brienne talking over a week ago, he observed how the young girl sought Brienne out. They spoke quietly and smiled at whatever words were exchanged.

Jaime never wanted to infringe on their privacy, so he didn’t ask what they spoke of. It wasn’t until one evening under the stars with Brienne that she shared a piece of insight.

_ ‘She knows, Jaime. In time, you should talk to her. I think it would mean a lot. She doesn’t seem embarrassed by it, but perhaps a bit worried about what it means for her prospects in the future.’ _

At night, Jaime longed to curl up beside Brienne. He hated knowing that she was one tent over, yet entirely untouchable. As had been the case for so many moons, Jaime dreamed of Brienne. He dreamed of chasing her through the field at Casterly Rock; his eyes staring deep into a pool of glistening sapphires. 

It was a fortnight into their trip when they made their way up the hill towards the Rock. Jaime smirked as Brienne marveled at the sight of it. Her eyes were wide and her jaw slack as they rode through the lion’s mouth.

Jaime felt like a young boy eager to show off his toys to friends. While the castle itself did not evoke fond memories, Jaime loved the grounds. He was eager to show Brienne the yards, the cliffs he used to jump from, and the gardens with the most magnificent trees to climb.

As the horses made their way into the courtyard, the castle staff lined up in greeting with Genna at the head of the line. Her lips were stretched into a wide, prideful smile as she met Jaime’s eyes. At the sight of his White Cloak, she groaned and rolled her eyes.

Jaime dismounted and moved slowly towards Genna. Covering his ears in jest, he bowed dramatically. “Hello, Aunt Genna. You look well.”

With a smirk, Genna extended her arms widely. “Too big to hug your dear old aunt? Come on! I’ve gained years at the rate you all took to get here.”

Smiling widely in return, Jaime surged forward and hugged Genna. Then he felt her fingers tugging at his ears as though he was once more a boy of five. Abruptly, she stepped back and swatted his chest hard.

“You don’t visit or write enough! Don’t get me started on the mess that I’ve been left to deal with when your father left to be Hand.” A shadow passed over Genna’s face at the mention of Tywin. She always loved her big brother and viewed him as their protector. Of course, she always offered opinions; even when unrequested. It was the only time Genna and Tywin truly fought.

Tyrion approached and Genna bent down in greeting. “There he is. Our troublemaker. I’m afraid to ask what you’ve been up to, though I daresay that answer is marching south for your sister’s crown.”

Raising a challenging brow, Tyrion spoke teasingly. “Don’t you mean  _ Joffrey’s  _ crown, dear aunt?”

A pointed glare was the only answer the brothers needed. Everyone knew that Cersei was ruling the kingdoms and Joffrey was merely her puppet. Glancing back at the escort, Jaime reached out for Brienne who stood at a distance.

“We can talk politics later, Genna. Perhaps you should first meet our queen. This is Brienne Tarth.”

Genna’s eyes narrowed as she hummed curiously. There was a spark in Genna’s eyes that unnerved Jaime. Knowing it was likely that Tywin sent word about his intent to see Jaime and Brienne wed, Jaime could only imagine what was running through Genna’s mind as Brienne approached.

Genna’s eyes dropped to the sword and rather familiar dagger at Brienne’s hip. A smile stretched across her face as she hummed louder.

Appraising Brienne, Genna chuckled; her eyes flitting to Jaime. “Yes, she’ll do just fine.”

“Do just fine? We’re not procuring a new horse, Genna! Gods.” Jaime grumbled as Brienne reached them. Confusion touched her features as she looked between the brothers and Genna. Stammering slightly, Brienne bowed nervously.

“Hello, my lady. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Genna huffed and stepped towards Brienne. Her fingers reached up for Brienne’s chin as she shook her head. “You’re to be a queen, girl! Stand tall and proud! Gods, if I had your height, I’d be ruling all of Essos by now!”

Looking to the staff at her back, Genna barked at them. “This is to be your queen! Where are your courtesies?” 

The staff at Genna’s back curtseyed or bowed as the older woman’s head turned slow back to Brienne. With a curtsey of her own, Genna smiled warmly. “The Rock is yours, your Grace.”

Glancing behind Brienne, Genna smiled at Tommen and Myrcella. “There are my sweet babes. Come say hello. I’ve not seen you since you were at the wet nurse’s teat.”

Jaime shuffled closer to Brienne as his aunt assaulted the children’s ears. His hand reached out slowly to rub the small of Brienne’s back; a soft smile on his face. Leaning in, Jaime whispered. “She likes you. Be afraid and guard your ears.”

Brienne chuckled lightly as Jaime lingered near her ear. There was a draw to Brienne that made it difficult for Jaime to control his impulses. No touch was too long. Not distance too short. Pushing past them, Genna groaned as she walked towards the Keep door.

“By the gods, Jaime. Stop drooling on her and lets show everyone to their rooms.” 


	41. Brienne XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets a tour of the Rock and time with her favorite Lannister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

The tour of the Keep at Casterly Rock was dizzying. Brienne marveled at how large it was, yet despite its grandeur, it felt oddly empty. By contrast, Evenfall was small, but light, airy, and warm. A light chuckle bubbled in Brienne’s chest as she considered whether the whole of Evenfall could fit inside the courtyard at Casterly Rock.

Genna seemed a true force of a woman. She was confident and commanding as they moved through the castle. Judging by the response of the staff, they respected, but did not fear her. Jaime had warned that his aunt was quite vocal and opinionated, but warm of heart. When Genna finished showing the Tarth contingent, Pod, and Brienne the areas of note, Brienne dismissed the men to take rest until supper. She could tell that they were tired and longed for a proper bed after so long on the road, and after enduring the cells at Winterfell.

Genna guided Brienne and the Lannister brothers into a study. With a heavy sigh, the older woman took a seat. Her long, golden braid fell to the side of her head as she appraised them. Genna was shorter and thicker than most women of court, but she dressed elegantly and possessed something that Brienne couldn’t fathom; womanly confidence.

Brienne’s confidence was in a yard with a sword in hand where looks counted little and skill meant everything. In the yards, men didn’t  _ see _ her. They saw her sword or morningstar; her footwork and arm movement.

Sitting before Genna, Brienne squirmed slightly in her chair. As if sensing her uncertainty, Jaime’s hand reached out for her knee. His touch was calming and the strokes of his thumb reassuring.

“With your father gone, we need to find new ways to protect ourselves. We’re vulnerable now and without a lord.”

Jaime’s hand tensed over Brienne’s knee. Her eyes darted to him and she noticed the tension in his jaw. “We have a lord. He’s sitting to your right.”

Tyrion offered a small smile at Jaime and shook his head. “Father had one son and he insists on wearing a white cloak.”

“No. My brother had one son and shunned him.” Genna’s head snapped to Tyrion. “He refused to see himself in you, because he could not look past perceived imperfections. Tywin always hated weakness whether true or imagined. Instead, he poured all his energy into this one. Joanna’s son.”

Genna cast a finger at Jaime before crossing her arms. “As I see it, I have two boys before me. One makes a perfect lord, but my brother spent a lifetime ensuring he would never be accepted. The other makes a perfect knight, but my brother declared him heir despite an inability to rule; both in desire and vows.”

The words struck Brienne as harsh, but Jaime only chuckled. “Can’t the pair of you figure it out then? I’ve no mind for all this.” Jaime’s arms gestured dismissively around the room before his eyes landed on Brienne. “And I’ve a queen to guard.”

Genna hummed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course. You just  _ love  _ playing guard to queens. At least this one is not a tyrant. So, let me ask you…”

Genna’s eyes darted between Jaime and Brienne as she took pause. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she continued. “Will my nephew continue to wear a white cloak after we have a new sovereign?”

At the question, the temperature in the room seemed to increase tenfold. Brienne could feel her face heat as Genna considered them from across the desk.

“I’m a Kingsguard, Genna. I serve…”

“Yes, yes. You serve for life. Do you ever grow tired of saying it? We know that Kingsguard serve for life, unless a king or queen decides otherwise.” Genna raised a challenging brow. When no one moved to respond, Genna huffed and spoke again.

“I’m past these games. That’s Tyrion’s job now. Tell me the truth of it. I know what you’ve done for this girl. I know what drives you, Jaime. Do you think me blind? Get your bloody hand off her knee unless you mean to find a septon!”

At Genna’s words, Jaime and Brienne stiffened. His hand slowly pulled away and Brienne suddenly felt very exposed.

_ How did she know he was doing that? His arm wasn’t reaching that far over.  _

With a fond smile, Genna leaned forward. “Surely you’ve told her? Despite your father’s missive, you’ve not even been here half a day and I’ve seen it for myself. The lingering touches. Small smiles. I said that I am  _ not  _ blind; only old and tired.”

Brienne felt the heat at the back of her neck. The earlier warning of Genna’s blunt nature felt downplayed by the brothers. Taking Brienne by surprise, Jaime reached over more obviously and laced his fingers through hers. With a smug smile, Jaime returned his aunt’s stare.

“What of it?”

Genna seemed positively giddy by his response. She clapped before swatting Tyrion’s chest. “Don’t just sit there! If you’re to play lord of this bloody Keep, you need to plan a wedding.”

“Can’t I have supper first?” Tyrion’s tone was deadpan as Genna scoffed at him.

Jaime grimaced despite maintaining a strong hold of Brienne’s hand. “No, Genna. You don’t understand. It’s a bit… complicated.” With Tyrion’s help, the brothers informed her about Jon and the uncertainty around Jaime’s position in the Kingsguard as a result.

“Seven help me. I’ll throttle this boy myself if he doesn’t release you.”

“Genna!” Jaime chastised his aunt, but she only waved him off dismissively.

“It will be fine. He’ll release you or I’ll write him daily. I’ll beat him down with persistence. After all you’ve done for his…  _ uncle… _ he best release you! Until then, I would remind you to be careful with public affection for Princess Brienne. You must not let people think untoward things.”

_ Gods. That word again. Why must everyone call me a princess? I’ve no true claim to that awful chair. _

They spoke a while longer with Genna providing updates on the West and what she knew from the capital. Jaime’s last surviving uncle, Kevan, had fled the city to lead a host of bannermen to demand justice for his son, Lancel. The brothers only groaned at the information; both feeling the action rash.

Tyrion and Jaime provided context on the rebel army; their size, position, and approach. Ned needed to coordinate an attack with the Stormlands vassals who offered support to Selwyn. While they should have reached King’s Landing in the same timeframe it took their party to arrive in the West, the forces intended to hold back and await the Stormlands.

Mercifully, Jaime pulled Brienne from the study to give her a tour of the grounds. Tyrion was left behind as Genna insisted on getting him up to speed on all things Casterly Rock. As they walked outside, a pleased smile tugged at Jaime’s lips.

“She’ll support him in ways that my father never did. The West won’t back him  _ yet _ , but she’ll ensure they come to.”

As they moved towards the cliffs, Jaime slipped his hand into Brienne’s. It felt incredible to Brienne. Knowing Jon as she did, Brienne was confident that he would release Jaime once she spoke with him. Genna had the right of it. After all that Jaime had done for House Stark, it seemed a fair and simple solution.

As they reached the cliffs, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne’s waist. “I jumped from here as a boy. It was great fun until my father found out.”

Brienne appraised the drop and smiled. “I jumped from similar heights on Tarth. My father instructed me how.”

Jaime snorted and spun her around. With a gentle kiss to her lips, he smiled. “Is there anything you can’t beat me at? What about speed? Are you fast? Do you think you can beat me in a race?”

“My legs are longer than most people’s bodies. I assure you, I am fast.” Brienne spoke confidently, taking Jaime by surprise. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.

“Shall we race back to the Keep?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed and she glanced over his shoulder. Pointing, she feigned ignorance. “Those fields?”

Before Jaime could answer, Brienne took off in a sprint. She knew it was cheating, but she wanted to win. On Tarth, she never had anyone to race as a child after Galladon died. She missed the playful comradery, but most of the children didn’t want to be around her.

A youthful smile spread across Brienne’s face as she glanced back at Jaime. He was faster than she expected and closing the gap between them.

“That is  _ not _ honorable, princess! What would Ned say?”

At the words, Brienne giggled. It was a sound she didn’t make often, but it always ended in self-consciousness. Roelle had always mocked her for it.

_ ‘How such sounds can come out of such an ungainly thing is beyond me.’ _

Then Brienne felt Jaime’s hand on her shoulder. She turned slightly and Jaime wrapped Brienne in his arms. Tackling her to the ground, Jaime’s body blocked out the sun over his shoulder. Brienne chuckled and covered her mouth to hide her crooked teeth. When she composed herself and let her arms fall to the side of her head, Brienne looked up at Jaime. He appeared in a daze.

“Jaime?”

Jaime surged forward and captured her lips. The kiss took her by surprise, but her mouth softened against his. Jaime’s hand moved up her side and to her right hand; their fingers lacing together as he deepened the kiss.

Daringly, Brienne’s free hand reached up for his face. Her fingers stroked his cheek and moved towards his ear. The touch produced a low moan in Jaime’s throat. When they broke the kiss, Brienne stared into his eyes. They were soft and filled with thoughts yet spoken.

“I dreamed of you.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly. She opened her mouth to seek clarification, but Jaime gave it freely. “Like this... in this field. So many times… for so many moons. Since… the first journey south.”

A fierce heat crept up Brienne’s neck. “I… dreamed of you too. I used to dance with Renly in my dreams. I’ve… only danced with you since then.”

For some time, they lay in the field together. The sun was beginning to carve a path west over the Sunset Sea. Turning to Brienne, Jaime spoke softly. “Princess…”

Brienne turned her head to meet his eyes. He rolled onto his stomach as a sly smile spread across his face. “I’m going to win.” As quickly as the words came out, Jaime was on his feet and running.

_ Shit. _

Brienne rolled from her back and stood quickly. Her legs carried her forward, but not quickly enough. Jaime’s golden hair caught the sun; his emerald eyes turning to assess their distance in his imminent victory.

Thrusting his hands into the air, Jaime obnoxiously shouted his victory to seemingly no one.  _ Honestly. This man. _

After receiving a tour of the yards and gardens, Jaime and Brienne made their way inside for supper. The eyes of the Tarth contingent excitedly took in the feast being set out before them. Glancing across the table at Endrew, Brienne raised an amused brow at his eagerness.

After the rather public spar with Jaime on the road to the Rock, Endrew had pulled Brienne aside that evening.  _ “He’s a Kingsguard, my lady. Please, just… guard your heart. I don’t want to see you hurt by this.” _

Endrew was much like his father, Ser Goodwin. Loyal and caring to a fault, he felt a sense of responsibility for Brienne’s happiness. Aside from Galladon, Endrew had been one of the few boys on Tarth to take the time to acknowledge Brienne as a child. 

After supper, Endrew walked Brienne to her room. They spoke of Tarth and the war to come in the capital. Both were worried about Selwyn’s safety. Every part of Endrew longed to ride off and fight beside his Evenstar, but he refused to leave Brienne’s side. When Endrew bid Brienne goodnight, she slipped inside the room and admired the view from the balcony.

She had never been to the West before, but it seemed a beautiful kingdom. Like the members of their Great House, everything seemed golden and perfect.

_ I wonder if like some of House Lannister, the beauty only masks hidden dangers. _

The hour grew late and the castle quiet. Given the fatigue from their journey to the Rock, all had taken to bed early that evening. Brienne lay awake with an array of thoughts running through her mind when a light knock came at her door.

In only her tunic and smallclothes, Brienne walked to the door. Pulling the door open only enough to identify the visitor, Brienne was surprised when Jaime’s hand pushed the door open further and he slipped inside. He shut the door quietly, and without a word, his lips found Brienne’s in the dimly lit room.

Dragging his lips along her jaw, Jaime whispered into her ear. “I couldn’t sleep. We didn’t get to spar tonight.”

With one arm at her back and the other at her cheek, Jaime slowly guided Brienne towards the bed. The atmosphere shifted when the back of Brienne’s knees hit the mattress. A deep want pooled in her core as Jaime leaned into her. He pressed her body backwards and onto the bed; his body directing her towards the pillows.

“You’re rather indecent, princess.” Jaime’s fingers traced down her side to her exposed legs. The touch of his fingers on her skin sent Brienne’s heart racing.

Brienne’s reply was a returned whisper between kisses. “I’m indecent? You invited yourself into my room at a late hour, ser.”

Jaime smiled into her skin before his mouth sucked on the pulsating vein at her neck. With his body over hers, Jaime rocked his hips against her. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through Brienne’s body as his hard cock pushed against her nub through layers of clothing.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see sapphires staring back at me.” Jaime whispered into her ear and rocked forward again.

Everything about Jaime was overwhelming and invasive. His scent and touch made parts of Brienne throb with want that she never knew existed. The sight of his green eyes looking down at her made Brienne squirm. She needed him in ways that her brain lacked the ability to describe, but her body seemed more than eager to take the lead.

Jaime’s hand slipped under her tunic and found her hardened nipple. He tugged lightly, eliciting a gasp from Brienne. Her body arched into the touch as instinct took over. With a final kiss to her lips, Jaime began to move down her body. He pushed up her tunic to leave a trail of warm kisses down her middle. His head moved lower and lower and Brienne gasped when he did not stop at her navel.

Brienne was torn between horror and desire. His hands tugged down her smallclothes and threw the garment to the floor. His mouth continued its path between her legs.

“Jaime…” Brienne’s voice called out uncertainly. She could feel the warm puffs of his breath against her skin. Without looking up, he called out quietly.

“Relax. I want you to feel good.”

Swallowing thickly, Brienne stared down at the top of his golden head. Then she felt his tongue on the sensitive bud between her legs. She fought the urge of her hips to thrust upwards, instead willing herself to remain still.

Jaime’s tongue flicked against her sensitive skin before drawing her nub into his mouth. Brienne melted into her pillow and bit down on her forearm to keep from crying out. Sparks were flying through her body and bringing the most intense pleasure that Brienne had ever experienced.

Jaime released her nub and Brienne felt his nose against it as his tongue moved lower still. He circled her entrance before pushing inside. Brienne’s eyes went wide in response. This time she was unable to steady her hips which moved up wantonly to meet Jaime’s mouth. His tongue continued to explore inside her as his thumb rubbed circles into her nub.

Brienne was panting and her body seemed to be building towards something. It felt as though every muscle in her body was coiling with each flick of Jaime’s tongue and circle of his fingers. The pleasure building was intense, yet somehow, it didn’t feel enough. A long-suppressed part of Brienne cried out for more of Jaime. She was teetering on the edge, but her body wanted Jaime in a different way.

Akin to a thread snapping when too taut, an explosive pleasure erupted throughout Brienne’s body. She began to tremble as her body sagged into the bed. Jaime smiled triumphantly as he crawled up the bed towards her.

Cupping her face as though she was something precious, Jaime placed a delicate kiss to her lips. The scent and taste of herself on Jaime’s lips was shocking.

“Do you feel good?”

Brienne nodded dumbly. “Yes. What… that thing you did.”

Jaime laughed and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Goodnight, princess.”

He began to move from the bed, but Brienne caught him by the wrist. “Wait. What about you?”

Brienne’s eyes lowered between them and she noted Jaime’s tented breeches. Tentatively, Brienne reached down for his laces. Jaime quickly grabbed her wrist and shook his head. There was a hint of jest in his tone. “I’ll be fine. Time to continue training my left.”

It felt wrong to Brienne; unfair somehow. “Show me how. It’s only fair.”

Jaime seemed surprised by her words. He shook his head and stammered a reply. “That’s not why I did that. I just… wanted you to feel good.”

“And I want you to feel good.” At her words, Jaime’s eyes roamed her body.

He swallowed thickly and suddenly seemed bashful. Without awaiting his reply, Brienne reached for the laces of his breeches once more. She untied them quickly and pushed his breeches and smallclothes from his hips.

When her hand came to Jaime’s cock, he stiffened. “Brienne, wait. I… you don’t need to do that.”

Taking exploratory strokes with her hand, Brienne marveled at how he responded. His eyes closed tightly, and a moan bubbled in his throat. Brienne had never seen nor felt a hard cock before. In truth, the only cock she had ever seen was Jaime’s the night he entered the hot spring with her.

Her long fingers wrapped around his cock as though a sword hilt. His tip grazed against her body as she rubbed the length of him. Jaime’s hips pushed forward as she tightened her grip. The movement seemed as much on instinct as her own had been when his tongue touched her most sensitive areas.

Jaime’s hips sagged at Brienne’s continued strokes; the head of his cock grazing her entrance. Brienne watched as Jaime bit his lip in response and his brows furrowed. Strangely, Brienne’s own body cried out to meet his. She continued slowly stroking the length of him. As she grew more daring, Brienne applied more pressure which Jaime responded to with another moan. Her wrist began to turn as it might with a sword, and she watched his facial reactions to better understand what made him feel good.

Jaime’s hips pushed forward again, and the head of his cock pushed against her entrance. The sensation was dizzying. It was the piece of Jaime that her body unknowingly cried out for during her own pleasure. A slight panic went through Brienne at the realization of what she wanted.

Jaime’s eyes remained closed, and he moaned as Brienne continued stroking the length of him. Her thumb applied pressure as it dragged down his length; her fingers pushing against the thick vein at the underside of his cock. Jaime bit his lip harder than before as his hips rocked forward. When the head of his cock pushed between her folds, Jaime’s eyes flew open. They both stared wide-eyed at one another.

Their lust-filled eyes mirrored one another. Both wanted to continue, but both afraid to move. Uncertain what to do, Brienne continued moving her hand up and down his exposed length. As her fingers moved from his base to his tip, she could feel where their bodies were barely joined; the head of his cock just past her entrance.

Jaime’s breathing began to labor. His head dropped as he stared at their bodies. Then Brienne felt him move. It was slow, but she could feel him push just a bit deeper. Jaime raised his head slowly; his eyes a question. Brienne responded by raising her own hips and taking more of him.

The look in Jaime’s eyes was one of conflict. “Are you certain?”

Brienne considered the question. She had never imagined this moment would happen unless by force. As a noblewoman, the loss of her maidenhead was significant. She was meant to save herself for her lord husband; to give it away freely would be considered whorish. The world would judge her harshly, but then it struck Brienne.

_ They’ve judged me harshly regardless. I want him, and he seems to want me. Why not experience this with someone who cares for me? Any husband that I would offer my maidenhead to would prefer taking it when too drunk to see me. Jaime sees me. He is the only man I want to share this with. _

Looking deep into Jaime’s eyes, Brienne nodded in consent, but self-doubt lingered. She feared him regretting the act. “Yes, but… only if you are certain. If you would rather not…”

Jaime cut her off quickly. “I would rather.” He flushed at the haste of his reply. “I have never wanted anyone more.”

Then he sank into her. The pain was not as strong as Brienne feared from the warning Septa Roelle had given. There was discomfort, but more so, there was a pleasurable fullness. Jaime stretched her inner walls, claiming her as his own. His eyes never left Brienne’s as he sheathed himself fully. There was a vulnerability in his stare that she had never seen before.

When he was buried deep in her, they both stared wide-eyed at one another. Brienne felt something stirring deep within. Having Jaime inside of her felt right. There was no shame nor regret, only the feeling of being one. A wholeness.

Jaime swallowed thickly and Brienne could see his adam’s apple move up and down. Suddenly Brienne felt self-conscious. She wondered if she seemed  _ less _ to him. Less beautiful. Less desirable. Less than Cersei. Glancing away, Brienne willed herself not to think about it.

A warm hand at Brienne’s cheek guided her face back to Jaime. He looked into her eyes before lowering his head to place a deep kiss to her lips. Then he pushed forward. His body rubbed against her nub and sent jolts of pleasure through her body. He repeated the movements continuously. It was a full assault of pleasure.

The feel of Jaime inside her was overwhelming. It was as though he was reaching some unknown spot that only he could pleasure. The sensation of his body rocky against her nub sent sparks through her body and curled her toes. The taste of his lips on hers was a reminder of the pleasure he brought her to not long before. The sound of his moans into her mouth encouraged Brienne’s own response.

Brienne angled her hips upwards to meet his deep thrusts. Her long legs wrapped around Jaime’s hips and encouraged him forward, though it seemed physically impossible for Jaime to fall deeper into her. Their breathing began to shallow as both were building towards something together. Jaime’s right hand brushed up Brienne’s side and cupped her breast. As he squeezed, Jaime rubbed his thumb across her nipple.

A moan of pleasure pushed past Brienne’s lips which Jaime quickly swallowed when he darted his tongue into her mouth. The pleasure was more intense than the first time it built. Every part of Brienne was screaming for more. Her legs tightened and pulled Jaime closer as his pace quickened.

Jaime’s hips began to jerk frantically in a less rhythmic rocking. Dropping his head into Brienne’s neck, Jaime groaned. His body began to tremble as he lifted his head to meet her eyes. The emotions swimming in his emeralds took Brienne’s breath away. Unspoken words of love sparkled and sent Brienne spiraling. Her inner walls tightened and sent Jaime over the edge with her.

She could feel Jaime spilling deep inside. His thrusts slowed but deepened, and Brienne had never felt so content as they lay joined in the most intimate of ways. Staring deep into Brienne’s eyes, Jaime’s thumb brushed over her lips.

“My princess.”

The reverence in his voice felt more a declaration of love than the actual words could have. Brienne smiled at Jaime and marveled at what had transpired between them. They stared at each other for some time, neither moving to break their union.

“It’s never felt like that before. So, right and good… so, whole.”

Brienne’s heart felt like it might explode at his words. She reached for his face and caressed his cheeks. For some time, they held one another close. Their lips placed lazy kisses on each other’s face.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Pain laced Jaime’s tone as he nuzzled close. They both knew he couldn’t stay in the room. Begrudgingly, he sat upright in the bed. “I’ll get you moon tea.”

Brienne hummed and watched as he pulled up his smallclothes and breeches. Lifting his tunic to see the laces, Brienne caught sight of the scar at his middle from Barristan's dagger. Long fingers reached out to trace the scar; the act halting Jaime’s effort to redress.

“You did a brave and honorable thing to save Lady Sansa.”

Jaime smiled softly and shrugged. “It’s nothing compared to what I’d do for you.”


	42. Bran VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran has more visions of King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There are so graphic scenes in this chapter.
> 
> I'm going to double post today. I just need time to edit and hope to have the next chapter up (Jaime POV) in a few hours.

Bran stood engulfed in green flames. There was chaos around him. Men, women, and children crested over him in a wave of fear. As Bran fell to his back, he saw the smoke rising into the sky and blotting out the sun. Ravens circled overhead cawing and converging over a location in the distance. 

Curling in on himself, Bran felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He was getting trampled to death and the air was being pushed from his lungs. In desperation, he reached up as though grabbing for a rope. ‘Help. Stop.’

Horses whinnied in the distance and darted towards him. The animals were equally panicked; their cries drowned out only by the screams of the living. With a final gasp, Bran looked up as a horse’s hoof came down on his head.

Bolting upright, Bran was drenched in sweat. He glanced around all directions frantically while trying to reassure himself that the vision was only a dream. Rubbing his forehead, Bran stood and stretched his legs. He was getting stronger and less dependent on Hodor to carry him or help support him. 

Judging by the limited light in the sky, it was not yet dawn. They had been traveling for too many weeks to count. The path seemed winding with no end point in sight. Whatever force was propelling them forward seemed hesitant to be found.

At Bran’s side, Jojen approached. “We’re almost there. I can feel the pull getting stronger. Your visions?”

“Worse.”

With an understanding nod, Jojen put a hand on Bran’s back and sighed. “That’s because people are getting worse. They’re frightened. It’s a dangerous emotion to drive actions.”

Bran’s brows furrowed. “You dreamed of the capital too?”

The young man at his side seemed uncertain. His brows furrowed and he shook his head in refute. “I only get glimpses of it. It’s blurry and chaotic. I just see green flames, though I don’t understand why. I only feel the emotion. Fear. There are too many people.”

_ I need to go there. I need to see what is happening the capital.  _

When their group moved out from the makeshift camp, Bran tried to find the visions behind his lids. The voices had become clearer over the weeks. Bran’s ability to control his path in the darkness was stronger. He could cling to a thought or voice and follow it. The events he saw were no longer just the present. He could see into the past, and he could see glimpses of things that might come to pass. 

As darkness surrounded Bran, he listened to the voices.

A man’s voice. ‘I’ll bring you the Vale and more. I have ample coin to buy a fleet. We don’t need Meereen. Lets leave Yunkai and take you home. Your Unsullied and dragons can defeat anything they seek to challenge your throne with.’

Cersei’s voice. ‘You upheld your part of the bargain, and now I give you the Mountain. I’ve upheld my word. Now go have your silly revenge.’

Jon’s voice. ‘Winterfell has towers three times that size…. If you’re impressed by a windmill, you’d be swooning at the Great Keep of Winterfell.’

Joffrey’s voice. ‘Tell them to hurry up! Their king demands it! I’m bored and wish to see this trial begin.’

_ The trial. I need to see the trial. _

Bran followed Joffrey’s voice. When he stepped into the light, his eyes went wide. He stood behind Joffrey in a makeshift royal box at the Dragonpit. Thousands had assembled to watch Lancel’s trial by combat. 

From what Bran could tell, those assembled included dignitaries from Dorne, the West, and the Reach. Commoners packed into the large structure as well, though their afforded space was limited to crumbling sections of the once grand stadium. 

_ This place is massive, but hardly in usable condition. People should not be scrambling up the crumbling stonework; they’ll fall or the stands will collapse! _

Lancel Lannister stood chained on one side of the dais as the fighters entered the arena. The young man was trembling and desperately glancing around as though expecting aid to arrive imminently. His lip was bleeding and worn from having bitten into it nervously for hours on end. 

Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer wildly. Prince Oberyn moved confidently forward with a woman at his side. Bran had not seen her before, but it was obvious she was his lover from the way they appraised one another. 

_ I’ve seen Jaime and Brienne share such expressions. This woman must be Oberyn’s love.  _

The Lord Commander, Gregor Clegane, entered next and Bran’s eyes went wide at the sight. Only Selwyn Tarth rivaled the Mountain in size, but age was on the side of Ser Gregor. The muscles in his neck strained as he grinned viciously at his opponent. It was clear the man had a thirst for blood and cared little who his opponent was. 

Grand Maester Pycelle stood before the king and bowed. He began to call upon the judgement of the gods for the trial soon to commence, but Joffrey had little patience for it. Waving the man off, Joffrey silenced him with dismissive words. 

“Get out of the way or I’ll have Ser Gregor sharpen his blade on your teeth!”

Pycelle’s eyes went wide and he moved quickly from the dais to stand to the right of the royal box. Before the match began, Margaery leaned into Joffrey’s ear. She looked unwell and her body trembled. The queen’s skin was pale and her eyes sunken. Her hand touched her belly which had yet to swell with child. 

“My brother will take me back to the Keep and guard me, my king. Our sweet babe is strong, but making me weak today. I pray the gods judge Lancel accordingly.”

Ser Loras, Ser Meryn, and the Hound stood guard behind Joffrey in the royal box. Loras’ eyes went wide with worry for his sister and he reached for her arm. Waving Margaery off as he did Pycelle, Joffrey spoke in an irritated tone. 

“Fine. Only the gods and I are necessary in this trial. I hope you start taking better care of my son than you do yourself of late.”

Margaery swayed as she stood, but Loras caught her. Sweat dotted the queen’s face and chest and her eyes were hazy. The knight’s words were a whisper that barely reached Bran’s ears. “You’re getting worse. I’ll get you a proper maester.”

The pair left the dragon pit as the competitors began to circle one another. Both men took their weapons of choice; Oberyn the spear and Ser Gregor the sword. The Viper was quick and struck first. He made quick cuts against the Mountain’s thighs and arm. 

“Harder! The ground is yet red!” Joffrey barked at the competitors as they circled each other once more. The king sat forward eagerly on the edge of his chair. His eyes were like wildfire, but there was a lustful undercurrent; a thirst for blood like nothing Bran had ever seen.

With every cut of the competitor’s weapons, the king laughed and cheered. Bran was uncertain who Joffrey hoped to see win, but it was clear that his main priority was seeing as much blood as possible. 

Abruptly, another knight, Ser Osmund, entered the dragon pit. The knight whose brother Bran had seen occupy Cersei’s bed, rushed to the king’s side. “Your Grace, the queen mother needs you urgently at the Keep.”

Joffrey batted the man away and snarled. “Get away! Can’t you see that I’m presiding over a trial!?”

The knight looked nervous; a slight bounce in his step as he leaned in once more. “Please, your Grace. It is most urgent.”

“Do you mean to defy your king? I’ll have you thrown into the arena next if you don’t get out of my ear.”

At the words, Ser Osmund leaned towards the Hound. “Her Grace needs you to escort his Grace back  _ now _ . She said to use any means necessary.”

The Hound rolled his eyes and sighed. “I prefer to watch my shit brother get his eye taken out.”

Something flashed in Osmund’s eyes as he leaned forward and whispered. “Let the flames take you then.”

Marching away quickly, Osmund left the Dragonpit as quickly as he entered. Suddenly, Bran understood. His eyes went wide, and he glanced around the pit.  _ My dream. The flames. _

Days earlier, Bran had a vision of Cersei speaking with a man in a darkened corridor. He couldn’t see the man nor recognize the voice. Only limited torchlight touched the faces of Cersei and the helmed guard. They were speaking of wildfire. The man claimed at having located the caches of it below the areas she questioned. 

_ Gods. She’s going to blow up the Dragonpit. She is Aerys reborn.  _

Bran backed up slowly. His eyes were wild as he appraised the area and noted those assembled. Thousands would die in the pit and likely thousands more milling around outside of it. He wondered at how much of the city Cersei planned to engulf in green flames. 

As he neared the entry point to the pit, Bran saw the Hound throw the king over his shoulders. Joffrey kicked and screamed as a boy of five might. 

“Put me down, dog! I’ll have your head for this! I’m the king!”

The commotion drew the attention away from the competitors and to the retreating figures of the Hound and the king. Most didn’t know what to make of the scene, but no one moved to his defense. Ser Meryn marched forward quickly at their backs; his face betraying his vexation. 

On the raised dais, the match continued. In a flash of light as the sun’s rays caught steel, Bran saw a spear whizz through the air and into the Mountain’s head. A vicious smile spread across Oberyn’s face as he began pacing wildly around the massive man. 

“Say her name! You murdered her! Kill her children!”

The Hound and Meryn passed Bran as he stood frozen in place staring at the battle on the dais. Lancel’s entire body began to relax at the sight before him, and Oberyn’s lover clapped with glee. Then the sight before Bran flashed green and a monstrous explosion shook the ground. 

The impact of the explosion seemed to ripple through Bran’s body. It felt as though he was there rather than in a vision. More out of instinct than need, Bran turned and ran. The city quickly dissolved into chaos as green flames seemed to eat away at everything they touched. Glancing over his shoulder, Bran noted the massive hole in the ground where once the pit stood. 

The flames had burned so hot and strong that everything had been immediately rendered to ash. There would be no survivors in the pit, but outside, fire raged. The extreme heat set off a chain of reactive fires. Bran continued to run as people emerged from homes; their clothing on fire and their screams filling the air around them. 

No one was spared from the flames; soldiers or commoners, old or young, rich or poor. Running forward as though it mattered, Bran saw the king on the ground. In the chaos and flames, the Hound had abandoned him there. Staring at the scene before him, Bran remembered his dream.

Frightened men, women, and children ran for their lives and slowly began to trample their boy-king. Neither Meryn nor the Hound circled back for Joffrey. Instead, the two men ran as hard as fast as they could. Meryn pushed women and children into buildings or to the ground to get past them. 

Joffrey’s cries filled the air and drew Bran’s attention back to the boy-king. Horses broke free from posts they were tied to. Bran’s vision was coming to life, but it was Joffrey being trampled.

The young king gasped for air as tears streamed down his face. A sea of humanity ran over his body. Then the horses came. Bran cringed as a horse’s hoof crushed the king’s skull on impact. Brain matter spilled onto the streets as the horses continued their mad dash to safety. 

Unable to continue looking at the image before him, Bran ran from the scene. His heart beat wildly, but he was only a phantom in this world. Frantic citizens passed through his body in their haste to flee. 

_ When will this end? Why can’t I wake up? What more do I need to see? _

Bran’s answer came not long after. Up ahead in an alley on the left, Loras shielded his sister from the chaos. He was screaming and crying as the queen’s body sagged against him. 

“Please! Don’t leave me! I’ve no one left!”

Loras’ eyes were wild with fear. He glanced around and called out for aid, but in the frenzy, no one heard nor cared. 

“Please. Help! The queen! She needs aid!”

Bran looked at Margaery’s body which was slowly fading. The life was draining from her, and her eyes were going dark. 

_ What happened? Why is she dying? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Oberyn and Margaery. It's awful and I'm sorry.


	43. Jaime XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime speaks with Genna and reads some surprising letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW content at the beginning.
> 
> Double posting day. Posting this with the prior chapter (Bran VI POV)

Jaime awoke hard and wanting as the first rays of sun crept in over the balcony. As he did most nights, Jaime had dreamed of Brienne. Reaching below the sheets, Jaime took himself in hand and recalled the events of the night prior.

_ Last night _

After extricating himself from Brienne’s bed, Jaime made his way towards the maester’s office. At the hour, he knew the room would be empty which was much preferred for what he sought. The moon tea was easy enough to find, and Jaime made his way to the kitchen to heat some water.

A few bakers were still there preparing for the next day’s meals. They seemed unphased by Jaime’s presence to retrieve hot water. He complained of a headache and one of the staff offered a lavender tea to soothe his pain. With the hot water procured, Jaime made his way back to Brienne’s room. He dropped the moon tea inside and let it steep as he crept into her assigned chambers.

In the darkness, Jaime saw the outline of Brienne’s body in the moonlight. He left the tea on the side table and moved quickly to the bed. It was evident that Brienne had dozed off while waiting for him. Sliding under the covers, Jaime saw the small stain on the sheets from the loss of her maidenhead.

A hint of guilt washed over Jaime, but when his weight shifted the mattress, Brienne rolled to him. Jaime knew he was done for when he realized Brienne’s smallclothes were still on the floor. Pulling Brienne into his arms, Jaime placed a deep kiss to her lips.

Jaime’s cock was hard in an instant. His fingers danced down the side of her body and into her folds. When he found her wet and wanting, Jaime groaned into her mouth. More so than the need to fuck, he just wanted to be inside her.

The feeling of being inside Brienne was infinitely better than anything he ever had with Cersei. Becoming one with Brienne felt like finding home. There was a rightness to it and Jaime craved more.

Unlike his desperate, frenzied fucks with Cersei, Jaime enjoyed making love to Brienne. Their unity was as natural as when they sparred. Their bodies were made for one another and everything fit perfectly. There was an intimacy to their coupling that Jaime never thought to experience. He could kiss and hold her without reprimand. Brienne’s love felt selfless, giving, and reciprocated.

Lifting Brienne’s leg over his hip, Jaime pushed himself inside Brienne. A light sigh pushed past both of their lips at the renewed unity. Jaime’s body beseeched him to move and seek pleasure, but he just wanted to stay and enjoy the feeling.

Their fingers and mouths explored one another’s body as Jaime began to slowly move his hips. In the moonlight, Brienne’s pale skin looked otherworldly. Jaime wanted to drag his mouth over every inch of her body. When their bodies grew impatient at the pace, Jaime rolled Brienne to her back and pushed deeper.

They soon found release and collapsed into each other’s arms. Jaime knew the danger in spilling inside Brienne, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always been reckless in love, but unlike his couplings with Cersei, this didn’t feel shameful or wrong. Any child that might come of his union with Brienne would be different. A child made out of a  _ pure  _ love. Of course, he would ensure she had moon tea. It was not his desire to put a bastard on her, but only because he wanted to share a name before any babe came.

For over an hour, they remained wrapped in one another’s arms. It was everything that Jaime had longed for in life. Leaving the room was painful and Jaime wanted to wake up in a mess of tangled limbs with Brienne, but her honor meant too much to him. 

At the memory of the night prior, Jaime’s eyes squeezed shut as he found release. His hips bucked into his hand and he spilled onto the sheets.

_ The maids will not appreciate my sword hand training. _

After readying for the day, Jaime stepped into the hallway and he moved towards Brienne’s room; an easy smile stretched across his face. The thought of merely seeing Brienne was enough to send his heart racing. A familiar voice called out from his back.

“Jaime.”

Turning to greet Genna, Jaime raised a questioning brow. Genna’s eyes appraised his attire. An unimpressed hum filled the space around them. “The staff cleaned that already, did they? Can you spend one day in our House colors? Humor me.”

Jaime smirked; a teasing lilt in his tone. “I am a man with no House. Sworn to protect our sovereign.”

Waving him off, Genna sighed. “I need to speak with you  _ privately _ .” The message was clear and despite his desire to not leave Brienne’s side, Jaime relented.

“Very well. Am I allowed to eat first, or do you mean to starve me into submission for whatever it is you want?”

Genna huffed and walked towards the steps. “I’ll meet you in the hall.”

Without another word, Genna made her way downstairs. The remaining walk to Brienne’s room was uninterrupted, and when Jaime arrived, Brienne was making her bed. After their second coupling the night prior, Jaime had brought new linens and removed the stained set. He didn’t want inappropriate gossip swirling at the Rock.

“We do have castle staff, princess. They can tend to your bed.”

The statement didn’t move Brienne as she continued fixing the bed. “I’ve always made my own bed, though it never stopped the staff from fussing with it.”

As she rounded the bed to fix the other side, Jaime tugged her close. His lips found their counterpart once more and a deep satisfaction coursed through his body. “Good morning.”

Jaime wondered if the night felt as lonely to Brienne as it did him after he left the room. Glancing to the table, Jaime noted the used teacup. While necessary, a slight sorrow tugged at his heart.

“Did you sleep alright?” Jaime desperately wanted to understand Brienne’s frame of mind after the night prior. He worried that she might regret their coupling or resent him for what happened.

“I… um, yes.” Brienne’s face flushed at the words, but she offered little in way or reassurance to Jaime’s unspoken concern.

“About last night…” Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne as he began to speak. His voice lacked the contrived confidence he was ordinarily able to will into existence. 

Something flashed in Brienne’s eyes and she visibly retreated in on herself. “I understand. I’ll not speak a word of it. I know it would dishonor you.”

“What? No, Brienne. I meant everything that I said  _ and _ did last night. I’m only worried that you might regret it or hate me for it.”

Brienne looked confused at the words. She shifted anxiously on her feet and glanced at him through her lashes. “You… you don’t regret that? Even though I’m not… I’m not easy to look at.”

“The only thing uneasy to come from looking upon you is hiding the most awkward tenting of my breeches. If you could perhaps stop causing that, I would greatly appreciate it.” Jaime bit back a smile as he tugged Brienne forward by her jerkin.

“I’d quite like to do that again, though admittedly, I’d much prefer if I didn’t have to sneak out. After I left, it was…”

Jaime tried to find a word that didn’t make him feel so pathetic or vulnerable, but Brienne stole the only word that came to mind.

“Lonely.” A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I would have preferred you staying.”

Hearing Brienne voice his sentiments was much needed. He wished to crawl back into bed with Brienne and stay, but Genna was waiting for them downstairs.

Placing a soft kiss to Brienne’s lips, Jaime slipped his hand into hers and pulled her from the room. “We should eat before my aunt comes looking for us.”

Walking with Brienne to the dining hall, Jaime envisioned every day with her at his side. Jaime knew that he would never love another as he loved Brienne. Cersei romanticized the idea of being mirror images, but Jaime no longer saw such a reflection. Brienne complemented him, and together it felt as though they could live fulfilled lives and realize the most complete form of love.

They arrived in the hall to find Tyrion, Pod, and Genna already breaking their fast. Jaime pulled out Brienne’s chair for her, but the smirk on Tyrion’s face did not go unnoticed.

“How is your  _ headache _ this morning, Jaime?” Genna raised a brow as she took a sip of her tea. Like Tyrion, Genna had an eye and ear for everything. Nothing seemed to happen at the Rock without her hearing about it.

Beside Genna, Tyrion’s smirk widened; his tongue darting against the inside of his mouth and causing his cheek to extend slightly.

Unwilling to play their game, Jaime pressed his lips together tightly before replying. “ _ Much better _ , thank you for asking.”

Shoving some sweet bread into his mouth, Jaime glanced at Brienne and winked. He was halfway through his meal before Genna huffed; her fingers tapping impatiently against the side of her teacup. 

“Have you had your fill now? Can we speak in my study?”

_ Ah. Was this what she meant to speak about? Am I to be chastised for last night? _

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime’s eyes instinctually roamed her body. It was never enough to simply stare into her sapphires of late. “I’ll meet you in the yards in a bit? I think Pod expects his training to continue.”

Brienne sucked in her lower lip and nodded in agreement. With a deep breath, Jaime left his seat to endure whatever reprimand he was certain to receive from Genna.

Following his aunt to the study, Jaime considered the Keep. He had not visited in many years, but the halls were as dark as he recalled. For all Tywin’s coin could buy, he could not purchase love. Only his siblings and Genna had offered any semblance of warmth, but even Cersei’s affections now seemed warped and self-serving with the fog having cleared.

When they stepped into the study, Genna barked at Jaime to sit at the desk while she shut the door. Her tone indicated this was to be an unpleasant conversation. Even as a child, Jaime despised being called into the study. Most conversations ended in tears or guilt.

As she rounded the desk to take a seat, Genna spoke commandingly as ever. “Lets get the first matter settled before we deal with the state of our House. Much to Tyrion’s constant disappointment, this Keep is not a brothel. Further, the woman we are to see crowned, gods willing, is neither your betrothed nor wife. Please keep that in mind when you go sneaking through the corridors and hiding away linens.”

Jaime’s face reddened in embarrassment and guilt as he shifted in his chair. Bringing Brienne dishonor or sullying her reputation was his greatest fear, and his impulsive actions the night prior had done just that.

With a slightly softer tone, Genna leaned forward. “This is not a love to be ashamed of or secreted away. I quite hope we’re beyond  _ that _ . You must however control yourself until you’re released from the Kingsguard and say your vows in a Sept. I’ll not see another child of yours with the wrong name. Further, if Brienne is to be queen, she must be respected!”

Genna’s glare pinned Jaime in place. Leaning back in her chair, Genna tilted her head in consideration. “Now, as to this war, tell me why you are not leading our men in it.”

The question startled Jaime. He looked to Genna as though she was half mad. “I’m guarding Brienne and I’ll not fight my kin.”

“Even though Cersei killed your father? Even though my nephew sits in a cell prepared to meet the Stranger because of  _ her  _ actions? Do you harbor feelings for…”

“No!” Jaime interjected quickly. The conversation deeply unsettled him, and he looked away in a huff. “She is my sister. Joffrey is my… nephew. Holding the West back from this fight is all the advantage the allied forces need. The Reach is not as skilled in matters of war, and Dorne’s forces are too small.”

“That won’t stop her, Jaime. If there is one thing I’ll grant Cersei, it is her resolve. She will stop at nothing to retain the crown. She killed your father for it; of that much I am confident. Were you the one standing in her way, she would not hesitate to shove you into the Stranger’s arms.”

The words hurt more than Jaime cared to admit. Jaime would never again run to aid Cersei, but he could also not bring himself to kill her. With a sigh, Genna crossed her arms and looked to the ceiling.

“When you were little, the maester warned Tywin that twins could become overly dependent on one another. Of course, he did not intend to imply such extremes that you and Cersei took it, but he shared insights about twins to guide your raising. Everyone always commented when you both were little how much you looked alike. It wasn’t until your bodies began to mature that visiting vassals could distinguish the pair of you. I always had an easy time though; I only needed to hear you speak. From a young age, Cersei spoke of “me” and “I”. You spoke of “we” and “us”. She always led, and you followed. Many times, I saw the hesitance in your eyes, but you sought to please more than disappoint. She only cared that you followed with as little fuss as possible. It was when Tyrion came along that I saw the first cracks.”

Genna’s head turned slightly and she glanced out the window; lost in a sea of memories. “At first, I thought the change in her demeanor a natural reaction to loss. She was angry and lashing out. Tyrion was an easy enough target. That doesn’t excuse it of course, but it was how I allowed myself to fall asleep at night. Defending Tyrion against her was your first true act of defiance and she punished you for it. It only made you work harder to please her. I always feared that she would be the death of you. She would keep demanding and pushing until you could take it no longer. I feared you would die waging one of her unnecessary battles, or fall on your own sword. It kept me awake more nights than you know. I feared that I had failed Joanna. I failed to keep you safe. Tywin  _ knew _ though he refused to believe or accept. It’s amazing how you can convince yourself of a lie if you try hard enough. If you repeat the mantra daily as though a battle cry. He wasn’t a good father, nor was he a very good man in his later years. The best parts of him died with Joanna, but, beneath it all, you were the only one he truly saw.”

Jaime rubbed at his forehead. The bond between siblings ran deep, which made it all the more humorous to Jaime that Genna failed to see  _ why  _ he couldn’t lead the West against Cersei. No matter the awful actions taken or how cruel the words spoken by Tywin, Genna could never fight  _ against  _ him. It seemed to Jaime that Genna was merely upset about Tywin’s death and trying to sway him to her cause.

Wordlessly, Genna reached for a paper in her desk drawer. She slid it across the table to Jaime and spoke softly. “He wasn’t  _ always  _ self-serving.”

Genna stood from her chair and walked around the desk. As she passed, she placed a warm hand on Jaime’s shoulder before leaving the room and closing the door. Jaime appraised the missive. It had Tywin’s seal broken on the exterior. Inside, was a rather lengthy letter. The length alone was out of character, but the words even more so.

_ Genna, _

_ Per my last missive, I expect that Jaime will eventually head your way with Tyrion, Myrcella, Tommen, Barristan, and the Tarth girl. The Boltons hold them at Winterfell, but knowing how utterly useless they’ve been thus far, I imagine Jaime will find a way to free her and flee to you. _

_ The boy always goes running to you for support as he did for every scraped knee and reprimand received.  _ _ Keep him there _ _. _

_ Despite my orders, I know you will be the first to ignore them if you feel it in his best interest. You would do him a disservice if you let them flee. No matter what nonsense he says, he needs this girl. I’ve done some additional investigation into the matter, and I do believe that Brienne is his Joanna. _

_ I sent men who I trust to Tarth to treat with her father. I’m no fool. I know he rules and Ronnet is likely rotting in the sea. No harm will befall Tarth, and I offered our House’s protection. I require only their cooperation. Joffrey needs to be removed and I have a plan for that. The boy is ill-made for the throne. I see Aerys’ madness in him just as I see it in Cersei. _

_ Tommen will be placed on the throne. If Margaery wishes to maintain her position as queen, she will wed Tommen to ensure our alliance with the Reach. I can sense that Olenna will be more than agreeable to my terms.  _

_ Rumors swirl that Margaery carries Joffrey’s babe which I’ll have confirmed soon enough. If Margaery does not honor the alliance and wed Tommen, she will birth a Waters, if in fact she is with child. Joffrey will be stripped of his lands and titles.  _

_ He and Cersei have committed all manner of crimes that enable me to take such action. Further, I suspect that Cersei has made an attempt on Margaery’s life; fool that she is. She has always been possessive, and if she is allowed to stay at Tommen’s side as queen mother, she will try to harm Jaime and the Tarth girl. I'll need to consider an adequate use for her. _

_ I’ll not waste my time trying to force Brienne to the throne and have Jaime play at consort. I know he will refuse and only run deeper into hiding. He and Brienne will take the Rock. I ask that you help them rule. I know he hasn’t the mind nor interest in politics, but I need them there. It is the only way that I can keep them safe. _

_ From what information I collected, you will see it when they arrive. He loves her. I just need you to convince them to stay and rule. Aerys stole my son and I will have him back. _

_ Tywin _

Jaime sat in shock staring at the missive. It was clear the orders were written  _ before _ terms were made between Tywin and the Starks.

_ It really could have ended peacefully. _

The same line stuck him repeatedly as he stared at it. “This girl is his Joanna.” Everyone had agreed that Tywin was different before Joanna’s death. In truth, Jaime couldn’t recall much of his father before Joanna died on the birthing bed. Jaime only remembered Tywin for what he became  _ after _ .

Thinking deeper on the letter only troubled Jaime. It was easier to feel nothing than to consider what he had lost. Genna’s words echoed in his mind as Jaime made his way towards the yards. 

The morning rays caught Brienne’s hair as she offered Pod instructions with the sword. Pod was incredibly green, but he had potential. Pod listened well and retained information. From what Tyrion shared, he was an eager learner and wanted to become a knight. Jaime watched for a while and smiled at how Brienne interacted with Pod. She was very nurturing with him just as she had proven with Rickon, Myrcella, and Tommen.

Jaime fantasized about her belly growing round with his child. She was the Maid and the Warrior with all the qualities necessary to become the Mother. It wasn’t long into the morning’s drills when Genna ran into the yards. Her eyes were panicked and her cheeks pink from the effort of running.

“Jaime!” Genna had a missive clutched in her hand. Standing upright from his perch on the rock wall, Jaime took cautious steps towards Genna.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Genna’s eyes were pained as she approached. “It’s Kevan.”

Jaime huffed. “Gods. What has he done? I knew he shouldn’t have brought a group with him to the city.”

Shaking her head Genna shoved the missive into his hands. Scanning the letter, Jaime felt the world shift below his feet.

_ Genna, _

_ My group did not make it to the city in time before the trial. We instead arrived to a city engulfed in green flames. A trial by combat was held for Lancel at the Dragonpit. She used wildfire, Genna. One-quarter of the bloody city went up in flames. Men half-burned were fleeing the city. _

_ The rebel armies had been on the outskirts of the city awaiting the arrival of the Stormlands and some smaller contingents from their kingdoms. Cersei has known it would come to this and has not been sitting idle. I suspect she has been planning all of this for some time; Tywin’s death, disposing of threats at the Keep, and dealing with the threat from the north.  _

_ Cersei has brought in the Golden Company, which I imagine she funded through the Reach in secret. It would explain Lady Olenna’s frustration when we requested more coin before Tywin's death. Thousands of sellswords stand before the city with the Reach and Dorne. They have all manner of depravities among them; war elephants, snarling hounds, and mounted cavalry. _

_ We need all our bannermen to win this war! Jaime cannot sit there and play at neutrality any longer. He must declare for a side! _

_ Kevan _

There was nothing to consider and no request necessary. Cersei had used wildfire, and now Jaime would bring her all Seven of the Hells.

“We ride out now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is probably a lot of "WTAF is going on" about everything in KL. It is one of the downsides to only showing events in bursts through Bran rather than having a character POV from Cersei or Tywin. To this point, I made a creative decision to do that so it seemed less obvious where things were headed. Now however, we will get answers to "but whyyyyy" in an upcoming chapter (a short Cersei POV). For now, things are a bit vague (and quite awful).


	44. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei reflects on everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei is her own warning. She is pure crazy and her thoughts are disturbing.
> 
> Another double posting day. As always, I need to edit. I hope to have the next chapter posted in a couple of hours (Brienne POV).

Cersei stood at her balcony staring into the distance. A sadistic smile tugged at her lips as the plumes of smoke reached towards the heavens. Her eyes danced like the very wildfire consuming the city. When the knock came at the door, she expected it to be Ser Osmund confirming that Joffrey was safely tucked away in his room.

“Enter.” Cersei’s eyes remained fixed on the city as she raised the winecup to her lips. At her back, the door creaked open.

“Your Grace.” Ser Meryn’s voice was devoid of emotion.

“A great tragedy, Ser Meryn. I fear something has happened at the Dragonpit. I only pray our king wasn’t there.”

_You better confirm as much._

Then the bells rang. For a moment, Cersei thought the sound imagined. She stood rigid and stared out at the chaotic city. When Meryn did not confirm her words, she turned slowly to face him.

“ _Your Grace_ , our king is dead. _You_ are our queen now.”

Cersei’s lips curled in rage as she stalked towards Meryn. “And yet _you_ live!? You were meant to be guarding him.”

“He refused to leave the Dragonpit. I encouraged him from the trial, but the Hound abandoned him in the chaos. I tried to save him, but regrettably, I could not get to him in time. I’ve sent men to look for the Hound and bring him to justice.”

_This can’t be. How could this happen!?_

“What of that Tyrell whore?”

Meryn bowed his head in reply. “Dead, your Grace.”

_At least something went according to plan._

Cersei’s mind wandered back to Joffrey. Her firstborn. Her least disappointing child. Tears moistened her eyes.

_He was the best of us; of me and Jaime. Tommen is weak and unfit to rule. It’s best my traitor brothers stole away with him. Now I am queen. Perhaps this worked out better than expected._

Still, a part of Cersei mourned her firstborn. Her plans for a dynasty to rival that of House Targaryen would not come to pass. Sorrow touched her tone when she spoke.

“I want my son’s body handled with dignity. We’ll honor him and display his body at the Sept.”

Meryn shifted on his feet; an uneasy expression on his face. “His body will be difficult to recover, your Grace.”

Cersei’s eyes widened and her head tilted in question. Taking another step towards Meryn, she spoke through gritted teeth. “What does that mean?”

It was at the mention of Joffrey’s flattened skull that Cersei launched her wine glass at Meryn’s head. When the wine-soaked Kingsguard fled the room, Cersei paced. She paced and cursed. She screamed and cried. Then she reflected.

Leaning against the stone railing of the balcony, Cersei thought back on the last year. Somehow, it all came back to Robert. Her greatest pain in life _always_ came from Robert.

_If Robert didn’t go hunting at Winterfell, me and Jaime wouldn’t have been caught. Hells, if Robert didn’t have his bloody rebellion, I could have married a prince! Surely if Rhaegar would cast aside Elia for Lyanna, he would have done even more for me! It’s my father’s fault too! If only he hadn’t broken from Aerys, the king would have wanted me for his son! Any other woman paled in comparison._

Then Cersei’s mind wandered to Jaime. She had been disgusted at his refusal to kill Bran. The Jaime she loved would not have been so craven. Her Jaime would have shoved the boy without hesitation. Her Jaime would have killed any witnesses to the crime. Her Jaime would have taken the blame and implicated only himself in the crime. He would have gladly accepted death to keep her and the children safe.

But Jaime seemed changed upon return from Winterfell. Rather than seek her out to grovel and beg forgiveness, he distanced himself. Something was different, though she couldn’t say what.

Then he returned from Tarth with a dagger wound in his belly. He had failed again to keep Cersei and the children safe. She had raged and refused to see him. When Lancel told her of Jaime’s return and physical state, she had sneered.

_‘Good! Let him die of infection! He failed me and he failed the crown! He let that old, lame knight best him in a fight.’_

Then he recovered. He recovered and Cersei felt angry that he didn’t seek her out. For the second time, he failed to beg forgiveness for his failure. While Jaime proved more and more useless, Tywin proved more and more problematic.

_‘You will marry Prince Oberyn to secure our alliance with Dorne.’_

Cersei felt hate pool in her core. All her life, Tywin failed to see her worth. The gods cursed her at birth. She was born with all the cunning, desire, and capability to rule. She had everything except a cock. Where Jaime could barely read, Cersei breezed through history books. Where Jaime wanted only a sword, Cersei wanted a crown. Where Jaime sought to serve, Cersei sought to rule.

_I would have brought father power and respect. I would have brought him legacy! Jaime brought him disappointment._

Of course, Tyrion had never been a consideration. As far as Cersei was concerned, she had one sibling and Tyrion may as well call himself Hill. Tyrion was a spiteful little creature incapable of leading anything other than drunks to a brothel.

Then Tywin used her children for his games, just as he tried to use her. First, he tried to sell Myrcella off to House Estermont. It was a great offense, and Cersei nearly slit his throat that day in his study when Tywin announced the betrothal.

_‘My daughter is a princess! She is born of two Great Houses, and you would give her as a peace offering to some shit vassal in the Stormlands!? We already control the Stormlands through Tommen! Storm’s End is his.’_

Tywin’s hand had flown across her face that day. It was not often that Tywin’s House ring was left imprinted on her cheek. Robert’s hand flew freely, but Tywin’s only extended when his cunning was called into question.

Then Tywin announced Tommen’s role. Tommen would wed the Stark girl and take Dragonstone. The plan infuriated Cersei. With the North in rebellion and Ned alive in the cells, Sansa was of little use. She could no sooner bring them the North than Myrcella could bring them the Stormlands.

_All the men in my family are unfit to rule. Were it not for them, I’d see our House conquering well beyond Westeros. We would have Essos under our control and all its resources to bolster our purse._

Cersei knew that she had to act quickly. First, she planned to kill her father. Sources in the city whispered of Oberyn’s thirst for revenge. The Mountain had brutalized his sister, and the Viper would not rest until Ser Gregor’s head met his spear.

Approaching her supposed betrothed, Cersei made an offer.

_‘We share enemies in this. My father seeks to harm my children just as he had his creature harm your sister and her children. Teach me poisons, and I will deliver the Mountain to you.’_

Cersei’s plan was simple. She would poison her father and implicate Lancel. Of course, she would lie to Lancel. She would claim to have the Mountain fight for him to ensure his innocence. In truth, the crown would appoint the Mountain to act as champion for Tywin’s death. Oberyn would get his chance at revenge.

The second part of Cersei’s plan was dealing with House Tyrell. With Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey, the Reach would have too much power. Further, Cersei detested the girl. Margaery was beautiful and young. The fact reminded Cersei too much of the prophecy from the woods witch.

_Tyrion will come for my neck after Margaery takes away my son… my access to power. Everything that I hold dear._

Cersei couldn’t have that. She couldn’t allow anyone outside of her House to come so close to power. Further, she couldn’t risk mixing bloodlines. 

From a young age, Cersei was taught that all other Houses were inferior. They were wealthier, stronger, more beautiful, and more cunning. Cersei believed that like House Targaryen, House Lannister could not allow weaker lines to sully their own.

And so, Cersei fucked her brother. She fucked Jaime until he forgot all other things. She fucked Jaime until he answered only to her. Their children would be untainted, and they would build a true dynasty. If Tywin and Joanna could produce children as perfect as the Lannister twins, yet they were merely cousins, Cersei delighted at the thought of what she and Jaime could produce.

Of course, the kingdoms could never know how pure their children were. They had to pretend at lineage to House Baratheon. With House Baratheon dead, and Tywin soon to join them, Cersei found a way.

_If House Targaryen can wed brother and sister, why can’t House Lannister? I’ll wed Joffrey to Myrcella. Their children will be more perfect; more pure. They’ll be better than anything that Jaime and I could produce. I’ll be Hand and see to it that our line surpasses the perceived greatness of House Targaryen._

Of course, Jaime and Tyrion ruined the plan. They fled with Myrcella and Tommen, leaving Cersei to find a way to recover her daughter. Rumors swirled at the Keep of Jaime’s affection for the mannish girl from Tarth. At first, Cersei thought it laughable. Then she learned more.

_I need to be in the walls like Tywin and Tyrion! I need to hear everything!_

Cersei blackmailed and coerced to get the information she sought. The information her father already gathered. She heard of Jaime’s saving the cow from rape. She heard of Jaime’s dance with the beast at Renly’s feast. She heard of Jaime’s contrived wound to secret Sansa and the children away.

Unlike Tywin, Cersei knew her twin. Jaime was a fool driven by love. If he did love the Tarth beast, he would do _anything_ for her. He would move against his own House for her.

_I made him obedient in love. It will now be used against us._

At first, Cersei planned to let Tywin live until they defeated the threat from the North and Riverlands. When Jaime fled with the children and slipped out of the reach of their men, Cersei knew she had to act. 

Cersei knew that Olenna was sending coin to the crown. The Reach understood that the crown would forever be indebted to their kingdom, and through that fact, they could impose their will. She knew because it was once _her_ kingdom that was used by Robert for the same purpose.

Taking the Reach’s coin, Cersei treated with the Golden Company. Only Joffrey knew of her plan to supplement the city defense with the ruthless sellswords. She used the seal of the king for her orders.

_‘We can’t win this war if your traitorous uncles sway the West to their side! Your grandfather will ruin us! He’ll jeopardize your crown. You must tell no one of this, but we need more protection. We’ll hire the sellswords from across the Narrow Sea. They have elephants! We need glorious, monstrous, war elephants! Your reign will be the first of its kind! A true dynasty to last until the end of days. You mustn’t tell anyone; not even your wife. She grows weaker by the day, Joff. Do you see how frail and pathetic she looks? They mock you because of her. They think your babe will be weak because of her.’_

Cesrei sent one of her bedwarmers, Ser Osney Kettleblack, to retrieve the sellswords.

_‘Bring me the army, and I’ll pay you double what they cost. Move quickly, though. Time is of the essence.’_

_I must gain control of our House before Jaime gets to them. I must kill Kevan too. Then I’ll kill Genna. Jaime will be the only one left, but he refuses to rule, and the West will refuse the imp._

While Osney went to secure the sellswords, Cersei plotted. Taking her newly acquired knowledge of poisons from Oberyn, Cersei began to slowly poison Margaery. She couldn’t make the death too obvious or she would risk the Reach rescinding support. To appease Margaery and Olenna, Tywin agreed to free Loras, but only if he joined the Kingsguard.

Olenna hated the offer, but Margaery encouraged her brother. The weak little Tyrell feared for her life in the city without her grandmother there to protect her. Like Jaime, Loras took the position to remain at his sister’s side.

Cersei found great amusement at their plight. She snickered as Loras spoke his vows solemnly, and Margaery breathed in relief from Joffrey’s side.

_I wonder if Loras and Margaery fuck in secret too. Did they plan to share in Renly?_

Cersei didn’t care for Loras. He appraised her too questioningly. His mistrustful eyes lingered too long. Cersei decided that when the time came to kill Tywin, both Tyrell siblings would need to be disposed of if the poison had not worked its course by then.

The poisoning took longer than Cersei wanted, but Tywin’s necessary death came faster than expected. When she intercepted the missives from Pycelle, Cersei realized that she could not wait any longer. 

She tried to kill Tywin and Kevan, but Kevan fled. Visiting Lancel’s cell, Cersei played the game.

_‘You’ve done so well cousin. This was all a farce of course, and you’ve proven your loyalty. The Mountain will fight for you at the trial by combat which you will demand. Do as I say, and I’ll see your father named Lord of the Rock. As my parents were cousins and wed, you and I will wed. All you need do is demand trial by combat.’_

Lancel had only hesitated for a moment, but like Jaime, he was no match for her body. Fucking him into submission, Lancel lay spent and willing. The next day, he demanded Trial by Combat.

Cersei smiled at how easily it was all coming together. She gave Oberyn what he wanted, and she would remove her remaining threats at the same time. Always a rash man, Kevan’s actions were unsurprising when rumors swirled of him amassing a small contingent to recover Lancel from the city. She imagined he would arrive at the trial; just in time for the show.

 _Wildfire_.

When rumors swirled of the truth behind Jaime’s slaying of Aerys, Cersei had the matter investigated. The third Kettleblack brother, Osfryd, was given the task of finding the caches of wildfire. He and Osmund would carry out the command to see it catch when the time came.

In the explosion, Cersei hoped to kill Margaery, Loras, Oberyn, Kevan, Lancel, and any leading dignitaries from the West, Dorne, and the Reach who dared enter the Dragonpit. It would be a tragic accident of course, and with the rebel armies at the gates, there would be no time to question it.

She had chosen the Dragonpit for the trial to ensure as many casualties as possible. To ensure a successful reign for Joffrey, Cersei needed all threats removed. 

_There are too many threats! Too many eyes! Too many ears! Kill them all! Kill them all! Kill them all!_

When the task was done, Cersei would find a way to get Myrcella back, and then she would wed the girl to Joffrey.

As for the rest, the Golden Company, the Reach, and Dorne would deal with them. They had strength in numbers, and they had Cersei’s cunning.

_Father’s greatest failure was overlooking me. He’ll watch from the Seven Hells as I vanquish all threats to House Lannister, and I will build a dynasty so powerful that the Stranger himself will cower before it._


	45. Brienne XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne comes up with her own plans for the battle to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Cersei I POV)

The Rock was in a state of organized chaos. Brienne ran at Jaime’s heel as he barked orders at the officers assembled in the hall. Only hours earlier, he had summoned all bannermen in the city to assemble outside Lannsiport and prepare to move out immediately.

Now half a dozen officers followed close at Jaime’s side as he gave orders. Jaime’s white cloak billowed at his back, and the light pouring in from the open door leading into the courtyard allowed the sunlight to frame his armored body.

The Tarth guards followed closely at Brienne’s back while Endrew spoke hurriedly in her ear. “Let him handle this. Please!”

Brienne had spent the past hour desperately trying to convince Jaime to take her with him. She didn’t want him headed straight towards death without her. It was her crown that half the kingdoms thought to be fighting for, and it felt wrong to have no part in it.

_ Why should so many risk their lives for me while I sit at this Keep? _

Genna was in the courtyard yelling at the squires who held the destriers in place. As Jaime, his officers, and Brienne stepped into the courtyard, Genna spun on heel. It only took one look at Brienne for Genna to begin ranting.

“No, no! You stay here!”

At Genna’s words, Jaime’s head snapped over his shoulder. When he saw Brienne stubbornly following, his face set into a scowl. Turning on heel, he grabbed Brienne’s arms and halted her progress.

“I need you to stay here! Stay safe!”

Brienne shook her head and continued making the same declarations that she had for the past hour. “I’ll not have all these men die for me! Let me go and fight among them! Why should I not participate!?”

Jaime’s face was desperate as his hands flew to her face. “Stay with your guards and Addam. If we lose, they’ll take you to safety. We cannot risk losing you.”

Only an hour earlier, Jaime had assigned Addam to lead a group of 500 that would stay behind and guard Brienne at the Rock. Together with the group from Tarth, Jaime ordered Addam to take Brienne to Essos if Cersei won.

“My father is fighting in this war. Everyone I know is fighting in this war. I’m not going to Essos if Cersei wins! Everyone that I care for is here. I intend to fight too.”

Jaime grunted in frustration and turned to face the men. He ordered them to prepare to ride out before storming towards Genna. Whispered words through gritted teeth were exchanged by the pair before Genna walked towards Brienne.

“Lets go inside and have some tea. Just us girls.”

_ Have some tea!? Is she mad? My… Ser Jaime is running into a city engulfed in wildfire; to fight with the rest of my loved ones and I’m sitting on a bloody rock! _

With all the officers except Jaime mounted, Brienne watched as Addam joined Jaime near his horse. They exchanged words and glanced back at Brienne several times. The officers began to leave the courtyard to join the thousands of bannermen outside the city below.

Slowly, Addam made his way towards Brienne. He offered a sympathetic look as he stood to Brienne’s left while Endrew was at her right. Jaime glanced back at her while standing beside his horse. Trepidation lined his features, and Brienne feared never seeing him again.

Addam snorted knowingly as Jaime’s face fell and he walked slowly to Brienne. “Here we go.”

When Jaime approached, Brienne could see the anger melting away in his features as he glanced at her through his lashes. At Brienne’s side, Addam spoke loudly to Endrew as though she wasn’t standing there.

“Ser Endrew, lets give these two dolts a moment alone so they can keep pretending we don’t all know they’re in love.”

Endrew chuckled lightly and stepped back into the castle with Addam at his side. Standing before her in the courtyard, Jaime huffed as his eyes followed Addam’s retreat into the Keep.

“We’re not  _ that _ obvious.”

Brienne felt her own vexation melting away as she lifted her head to meet Jaime’s eyes. Before she could speak, Jaime’s right hand reached out for hers.

“I need to know you’re safe. I’ll go insane with worry if you’re fighting beside me in this. My sister is unstable and likely to burn the entire city to the ground if she is losing. And if she wins…”

Jaime grimaced at the words and he didn’t need to expand on his fear.

Still, frustration lingered in Brienne. “And what’s the point of keeping me safe if everyone I care about is dead? What’s the point of fleeing across the Narrow Sea? What’s the point of having your men guard me? I’ll not be queen of anything. I’ll just be in hiding for no reason.”

“You’ll be in hiding to stay alive.”

_ Alive for what? To grow old while alone? _

Brienne looked away in frustration. A warm hand guided her face back towards emerald eyes. “Please, Brienne. Stay with the men. Promise me.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne closed her eyes and nodded. “I’ll stay with the men.”

Jaime’s lips met hers and for a moment, all anger faded away. The thought of never again feeling Jaime’s lips against hers sent Brienne into a panic. Reaching into her pocket, Brienne grabbed the gold dragon. Their lips broke apart and Brienne slid the dragon into his palm while maintaining eye contact.

Her voice was strained and Brienne scolded herself to keep it together.

“For luck.”

A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. He didn’t need to look down to know what he now held. “For love, princess.”

Both reached out to envelop the other in a hug. Brienne breathed in deeply and tried to commit the moment to memory. Her eyes closed and she allowed her body to sink into him. Burying her face into his neck, Brienne considered how impossible it would be to love anyone as much as she loved Jaime.

When they begrudgingly broke the embrace, Jaime swallowed thickly and nodded before turning on heel to walk to his horse. Rooted in place, Brienne watched as he left the courtyard. At his departure, an array of images flashed through her mind. A clearing. A hot spring. A gold coin. A dagger. A tower.

Before fading from view, Jaime looked back. Both refused to look away until he was out of sight and Brienne was left with nothing but memories. Taking a steadying breath, she turned around and walked into the castle.

_ I promised to stay with the men. I’ll stay with the men. I’ll stay with the men as we ride to King’s Landing. _

When she entered the Keep, Endrew and Addam were speaking quietly at the base of the stairs. A knowing smile lined each of their faces, but it was Endrew who spoke.

“My lady… when do we ride out?”

Brienne walked to them with her hands clasped behind her back; a confident smile on her face. “We’ll give them a few hours head start. They’ll take the gold road, so we can’t. We’ll need to keep far enough distance without being spotted.”

Addam chuckled and nodded. “He won’t be happy.”

Brienne hummed and shrugged as though it mattered little. “Neither will I if I stay. What good is being called ‘queen’ if I can’t have some power in these decisions. I do believe I outrank him.”

The words only deepened Addam’s laugh. He shook his head as mirth filled his yes. “Gods, I like you. Are you sure you want  _ him _ ? Redheads are  _ so much _ more fun.”

Dropping any jest in his tone, Addam spoke more seriously. “We can take the River Road and cross east through Mummer’s Ford. We’ll likely wind up between the two camps; the northern alliance and our bannermen. The path is less direct, but we’ve less men and will move faster than Jaime’s group.”

From down the hall, Genna approached rapidly. The older woman’s lips were drawn into a stern line. Her eyes were as commanding as Jaime’s when he was upset. Steeling herself for what was certain to be a stiff reprimand and challenge of her decision, Brienne stood tall and tilted her chin up defiantly.

Coming to a stop before her, Genna smirked. “There you are. Tall and proud. A true queen… and lioness. Surely that’s the look that sent my nephew to his knees before you. Here…”

From behind her back, Genna produced a sword. There was a question on Brienne’s face that the older woman easily read. With a huff of laughter, Genna shook her head.

“The moment Jaime told you to stay here, I knew you would leave. The pair of you are not difficult to read. This sword was my brother’s. I can guarantee it is of much higher quality than the one at your hip. Sadly, our House’s ancestral sword is as lost to us as my brother who set sail to find it. This sword however is the next best thing and I know that Tywin would want you to wield it in this battle. He hasn’t brought it into battle since the War of the Ninepenny Kings.”

A fond expression lined Genna’s face as she closed her eyes and spoke wistfully. “He said, ‘This sword has never seen a losing war, nor has it fought for a unworthy cause.’ He didn’t wield it when he sieged King’s Landing during Robert’s Rebellion, because he  _ hated _ everything about that war. He hated both sides and cared only to win. He didn’t wield it when he led our bannermen against the Young Wolf’s army, because he did not feel the  _ current _ crown worthy. Of course, he wanted our House to maintain the throne, but he found Joffrey particularly loathsome. My brother wanted his sword to pass to Jaime’s children. I suppose in a way, it’s fitting that you take it now. You are our House’s future. A future my brother would have been proud of. Perhaps a future that could have restored  _ his _ honor.”

Brienne smiled and reached for the sword. Before she could reply, Genna stepped forward and reached up to cup her face. “I know of Tarth. They call your line the Evenstar, yes?”

Genna’s eyes flitted to Endrew who smiled and stood proud. Looking at the sword hilt, Brienne shared in Endrew’s pride when she spoke. “Yes, my father holds the title.”

“Yes, yes. The brightest star in the night sky.” Genna hummed as she appraised Brienne. “You are the light that guides our pride now. Go lead our Young Lion. He gets lost in the dark. All his life, Cersei has been his darkness; all-consuming and deadly. You’ll return him to us.”

With Addam’s help, it didn’t take long to ready the forces and prepare to move out. Brienne asked Pod to help keep an eye on Myrcella and Tommen. 

The two young children were with Genna and Tyrion, but it was evident they were afraid of what was to come. Myrcella understood what was happening and stood rigid beside Tyrion in the courtyard. Her parents were fighting with one another and it would be impossible for both to come out the victor.

Leaning down to Myrcella and Tommen, Brienne forced a smile. “We will try to end this peacefully.”

Shaking her head, Myrcella’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “Mother used wildfire. I heard the men discuss it. She did what Uncle Jaime gave up his reputation to stop.”

Brienne glanced at Tyrion for aid. The younger Lannister brother pulled Myrcella tightly to his chest and sighed. “Your Mother isn’t well, but they will try to stop her without harm befalling her or Joffrey.”

Surprisingly, it was Tommen who stepped forward. He took Brienne’s hand and looked up at her pleadingly. “Please be careful. My brother is very mean. He and Mother get angry sometimes and... well, please be careful.”

Pulling Tommen into a tight hug, Brienne smiled and tried to cheer him up. “I’ll look for Ser Pounce while I’m there. Perhaps we can get you a new cat too.”

As Brienne broke the embrace, she saw the wide smile on Tommen’s face. “I’ll think of names while you’re away! Uncle Tyrion and Pod can help.” 

* * *

The group followed Addam’s planned route as the sun began to set at their backs. Brienne marveled at how efficient the Westerlands army was. The men moved quickly and without complaint. 

With Jaime having sent word ahead to the contingent at the easternmost borders with the Crownlands, Addam believed they would have roughly 35,000 men to add to the fight. The numbers would count for everything now that Cersei brought in a sellsword company and beasts to leverage against the rebel forces.

When the hour grew too late to continue safe travel, they setup camp. Brienne watched as Endrew helped command Addam’s men and Tarth’s. Like Addam, Endrew was a born leader the men respected him. He spoke sternly, but respectfully.

The pair had struck a friendship on the journey to the Rock. They were of similar skill with a blade, but no match for Jaime or Brienne. Both men also enjoyed teasing Jaime, but in his absence, Brienne became their target.

Addam sat opposite Brienne at one of the campfires; ever-loyal Endrew to her right.

“So, princess, how long has my  _ liege lord _ been mooning over you?”

The question startled Brienne. Her cheeks pinked at the question and while she had no desire to dignify it with a response, she herself did not know. With a small shrug, Brienne stammered slightly.

“He doesn’t moon over me. He’s not been interested for most of our acquaintance.”

It was the most honest answer Brienne could think of. Recalling his earliest words to her at Winterfell, Brienne knew that he found her to be as ugly as everyone else did. It wasn’t until they traveled south towards King’s Landing that he was able to overlook her ugliness and befriend her; to save her from Meryn and to train her so willingly.

Endrew snorted at her side and shook his head. “You’re kidding me? Gods, you’ve not changed a bit. All these years…”

A wistful smile tugged at Endrew’s lip as he looked to the night sky. The comment struck Brienne odd. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Rolling his eyes, Endrew turned to meet her. “If you recall, I was there with you in King’s Landing for the melee. I seem to recall a certain Kingsguard visiting you after your victory.”

“He meant to congratulate me is all. It was his training that helped me win.”

Endrew feigned offense. “Was it not me?” Before Brienne could offer reassurance, Endrew laughed and touched her arm fondly. “I jest. You were  _ greatly _ improved after that trip north. The trip that  _ he _ watched over you better than the shit guards sent with you. They were certainly  _ not _ our best.”

It had been one of the few times that Endrew and Selwyn bickered. When the men were assigned for Brienne’s trip north, Selwyn was dealing with a wave of attacks from pirates along the eastern edge of the island. Thinking the trip to Winterfell would be uneventful, Selwyn assigned mid-tier guards with Brienne. Ever the protector, Endrew had ranted and wanted to escort her, but the island was in too precarious a position.

As Endrew’s words washed over her, Brienne noted him shift to face her more fully. “Now lets not forget that little victory visit from a certain Kingsguard. I was merely removing  _ my _ armor that you borrowed, and yet he appeared ready to bite my head off when my hands came near you. Perhaps neither of you gave it name then, but that fool fancied you. He accosted me outside the tent about your training too.”

Brienne startled at the words. While Brienne recalled Endrew entering her tent in a huff and muttering ‘Kingslayer’ under his breath, no additional context was offered. At the time, Lord Stark was busy reprimanding Brienne for her return to the capital.

From across the campfire, Addam clapped in amusement. His cheeks were red with mirth and his eyes sparkled. “Sounds about right. He’s  _ quite _ possessive. The dolt.”

A small gasp formed at Brienne’s lips. “You call your lord and heir to a Great House, a dolt?”

Addam waved Brienne off. “Jaime is like a brother to me.  _ Obviously, _ I’m the much more handsome brother. Pity for you that you don’t see it.” Addam’s shoulders shook with mirth as he spoke, but then he became more serious.

“I was a page at Casterly Rock. Me and Jaime were of a similar age, and we shared the same interests.” Addam tapped the hilt of his sword and smirked before continuing.

“When Lord Tywin so my potential with a blade, he let me spend more time training in the yards. He was a man who wanted power and knew that maintaining power required a strong army. During the day, I spent more time in the yards training with Jaime than most spend time sleeping at night. I know him as well as anyone. He’s like a brother to me, and I quite enjoy giving him shit, but I won’t let anyone else.”

Brienne had observed the difference in Addam’s behavior when the bannermen were around. He led by example and spoke commandingly. The men respected him, but they also observed how Addam treated their lord, Jaime. There was a deep regard and it occurred to Brienne that the West likely sided with Jaime not just because Tywin wanted it, but because Addam demanded it.

With a deep sigh, Addam poked at the fire with a long stick he had been dragging back and forth at his feet. “When Jaime left to squire, he asked me to watch after Tyrion. He never much trusted Cersei or his other kin. He tried so hard to protect Tyrion, but the world can be cruel to anyone with differences.”

Addam sighed and met Brienne’s eyes. Levity returned as he chuckled lightly. “I suppose all this to say, yes, my friend is a dolt; particularly when in love.”

Brienne wondering what it must be like to have such a close friend. As a child, the closest thing she had to friend were the dolls that tormented her with their beautiful features and pretty dresses. 

The three spoke for hours by the campfire before taking rest. When Brienne did find sleep, it was troubled. Images of green eyes closing forever in her arms haunted her.

For just over a week, their group rode hard to catch up with the forces outside the city. Brienne prayed to the Seven that they weren’t too late to join the battle. Then, she had her answer.

Spreading out over the horizon, Brienne saw the rows of their allied armies facing the city and preparing to attack. Brienne pulled up her cloak and rode close to Addam. They rode along the southernmost flanks; away from the North, Rvierlands, and Vale. When they approached the Westerlands, they slowed their horses.

Leaning towards her, Addam whispered sternly. “Keep your cloak up. I’ll get some armor for you and I’ll find out the siege plans. I’ll ensure the men don’t speak of our arrival.”

The 500 that accompanied them stood waiting at the rear of the lines. Glancing back, Brienne saw their determined faces fixed on the city ahead. Gone were the jovial laughs and mirth-filled eyes. The men at her back looked stern as any army Brienne had ever seen.

Not long after, Addam returned with two squires at his side. “Princess, this is Peck. He’ll help you with your armor.”

Brienne dismounted the horse and smiled warmly at the young man introduced as Peck. He seemed a few years younger than Brienne, likely four-and-ten.

_ Gods, he’s young. Just a bit older than Pod. I hope Pod is alright and tending to Myrcella and Tommen. _

As Peck helped Brienne into the borrowed armor, Addam gave her information of the attack. “I found one of the officers. Most of the men will attack from outside the gates. They had held back from attacking earlier to prepare trebuchets. After seeing the elephants, they thought better of it than simply charging in.”

With a sigh, Addam looked out over the horizon. “Truthfully, they don’t much know what to make of the bloody elephants. Jaime and Barristan decided the best option was to take a small group through the tunnels. If they can force a surrender, the sellswords should call their beasts and men off.”

Brienne nodded as Peck finished getting her suited for battle. “We should go in through the tunnels too.”

At Brienne’s words, Addam snorted. “I figured you’d say that. We’ll take ten of our best, including Endrew. If we make our way south towards the Blackwater, we can follow the river towards the harbor and then to the tunnels. That is where Jaime and Barristan plan to enter. There is a cave entrance where the sea meets the rocks at the base of Aegon’s Hill. “

Brienne’s heart began to thud in her chest.  _ That’s likely how they took me out after Rhaella birthed me. _

“How many are going with them?” Brienne strapped on Tywin’s sword and sword belt before meeting Addam’s eyes.

“A dozen. Barristan, Jaime, Brynden, Ned, Robb, Edmure, some officers I’m less familiar with, and… your father.”

Addam’s eyes darted to Brienne. At Brienne’s side, Endrew grumbled. “Seven hells. I can’t have both Tarths in one bloody battle. All my men are coming with us. We have to guard our Evenstar and princess.”

Without arguing the point, Addam nodded and looked to the horizon. “The king and queen are dead. Died the day of the wildfire, though the scouts didn’t know if the flames consumed them or another cause. Cersei is queen now.”

Brienne felt sorrow at word of Margaery Tyrell’s death. She didn’t know the woman, but she seemed lovely from their brief interaction at Renly’s wedding. Joffrey’s death she felt less upset by, but a part of her worried about Jaime. Despite it all, Joffrey was his son. Before Brienne could return to her horse, Addam grabbed her arm.

“One other thing. Word arrived from Castle Black. Jon Snow lives.” 


	46. Jaime XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for the crown. The allied forces try to force a surrender and spare as many lives as possible.

Jaime’s breathing came out in short bursts as he ran beside Barristan through the tunnels. Their group of twelve had moved quickly through the port under disguise and entered through the cave at the base of Aegon’s Hill. Torchlight led the way as Jaime held half of Ned Stark’s sword in his hand.

Of their group, only Barristan and Jaime knew the tunnels. The older knight had expressed conflicting emotions over Jaime’s arrival just the day prior. 

Barristan was proud that Jaime came to fight for honor and justice. _‘I knew if you heard of the wildfire, you’d bring the West.’_

The allied forces had described the scene from over a week prior. A massive rumble shook the ground and a bright green burst lit up the sky.

Barristan knew immediately what had happened, though he didn’t understand why. As people fled the city, the army heard whispers of what occurred. In the initial two days following the explosion, burned and frightened innocents spoke of the trial by combat and the eruption of the dragonpit.

As days passed, whispers swirled that both the king and queen were dead. Cersei claimed the throne in absence of Prince Tommen. It was then that Barristan _knew_ , just as Jaime _knew_ when he read the missive. _Cersei._

When the shock and pride at Jaime’s arrival with the West gave way, Barristan worried about Brienne. Now that Cersei had found the wildfire and hired the Golden Company, their victory appeared unlikely.

Jaime shared that he had left Brienne in the care of Endrew, the Tarth soldiers, Addam, and 500 men. The situation was far from ideal, but Barristan agreed that it was for the best.

The day prior before they moved against the city, word arrived from Castle Black that Jon Snow lived. The Starks were excited, but held their tongue surrounding the significance of the information. Jaime was pleased that the young man lived, but part of him wondered what it meant for his future. Now, Jon would need to release him from his Kingsguard vows.

“Just a bit further.” Barristan whispered back to the men they led. They were in the lowest levels of the Keep now. Knowing Cersei, she had likely sent most of her guards to the gates. She was not a military strategist, but like their father, she loved flaunting her power.

What Cersei did not expect was the West to join the Riverlands, North, and the Vale. It was likely that she had also not anticipated the Stormlands arriving and preparing to lay siege. Still, the crown’s forces now outnumbered their own. Jaime had to admit, the elephants were a nice touch. Absurd, but nice.

_Gods willing, we’ll ring the bells before they enter the field and trample our men._

Moving through the Keep, they arrived at the entrance into the levels just below the dungeons. The plan was simple enough. They would fight their way through and capture Cersei. With her contained, they would ring the bells and claim the throne by right of conquest, just as Ned had claimed the throne on behalf of Robert. On this day, Barristan would claim it on behalf of House Targaryen.

They would keep the claimant ambiguous so that Brienne could formally recall Jon from the Wall. Once the battle was done, a raven would fly to the Citadel, the Rock, and Castle Black.

If they won.

A hand came to Jaime’s breastplate and he felt a tug. Turning his head, Jaime met Barristan’s eyes. “The only true threat among Cersei’s Queensguard will be Loras. Beyond him, there is not a single threat that you alone couldn’t cut through. If our sworn brothers engage us, _remove_ them.”

Jaime nodded in understanding. As Barristan pushed through the concealed door, they began their journey up multiple levels and towards the throne room. They had all expected that Cersei would sit stubbornly on her throne. It was the very place that Tywin found her during the battle of the Blackwater. Her obsession with the throne and refusal to leave it knew no bounds.

They encountered no one on the next two levels of the Keep, but once they were above the dungeons, Gold Cloaks greeted them. The only harm the guards did was to their ears. They died far too loudly for Jaime’s taste. 

Stepping over fallen Gold Cloaks, they continued to the next set of stairs. When eventually they made their way onto the main level, the true fighting began.

Gold Cloaks seemed to await them at every turn. Unlike times of peace where two or three Gold Cloaks patrolled together, there were now fifteen or twenty to a group. Jaime and Barristan fought as they had during the battle at the Blackwater. They cut through men as though more of a nuisance than threat.

With a huff at their back, Brynden barked as he pulled his sword from a fallen Gold Cloak. “There are ten of us at your backs! Lets us have a go!”

Jaime snorted, but kept pressing forward with Barristan at his side. They spun, ducked, and glided around one another. Like fighting with Brienne, Jaime had an instinct for fighting beside Barristan. Many years around the older knight had enabled Jaime to anticipate his movements.

A light chuckle pushed past Barristan’s lips and reflected the lack of effort he needed to kill the worthless Gold Cloaks charging at them. “So little skill these days. No dedication to one’s craft.”

Abruptly, Brynden and Selwyn pushed past them to lead the way. Their fighting styles were in stark contrast to Barristan and Jaime. 

Selwyn was a true monster of a man. His body was as violent as his blade as the older lord smashed incoming gold cloaks into the wall as the Mountain might. Brynden was all strength as he cut down any men in their path. At Jaime’s back, he heard Robb cry out.

“More at the rear!”

Glancing backwards, Jaime saw a wave of Gold Cloaks pour around a corner from the opposite end of the hallway. Ned, Robb, Edmure, and the northern officers engaged the men. The fighting turned sloppy and more reactive than coordinated.

Moving forward with heightened urgency, Barristan, Jaime, Brynden, and Selwyn continued to push ahead. The Gold Cloaks before them were back on their heels with little skill to stop their group. Soon, they found themselves in the throne room.

From the number of guards in the room, it felt to Jaime as though Cersei was holding court in the middle of a war. She sat on the throne with a crown on her head. Her eyes sparkled with a sharp edge. Even from the distance, Jaime could feel her eyes on him.

His heart began to race at the realization that he may need to kill her if she did not surrender. Everything about her posture suggested she would rather die on the throne than give up. At the base of the stairs, the remaining Kingsguard stood protectively before her.

Ser Meryn, Ser Boros, Ser Loras, Ser Mandon, and Ser Osmund stared at their entering group. A vicious smile tugged at Meryn’s lips as he barked at the Gold Cloaks to bring the traitors forward. Glancing at his back, Jaime realized the rest of their group was no longer with them.

_Seven hells. They must be dealing with more Gold Cloaks in the hallway._

Facing their group of four, Jaime estimated there were ten times as many men fighting for Cersei, not including the Kingsguard. The odds were overwhelmingly against them, and for the first time, Jaime questioned the intelligence of this plan.

Blades clashed together as the four men began to fend off multiple gold cloaks at a time. All four could handle multiple poorly trained guards at once, but this was too great of an advantage to defeat without more aid. Now it was their group’s turn to fight while back on their heels.

Jaime felt a sharp pain at his side just below the breastplate. Where he had blocked blows from two attacking guards, he took a blade from a third. Dropping to a knee, Jaime tried to block a killing blow to the neck. Before it came, Barristan’s blade swung out and took off the guard’s head.

“Jaime, take the inside!” Barristan grabbed Jaime’s arm and placed him in the middle of their group of four. Barristan stood on the outside which was the most overwhelmed by the onslaught of guards. Barristan cut through Gold Cloaks like a man possessed.

Jaime could feel the blood dripping down his side. A searing pain coursed through his body as he continued to block and parry. Glancing towards the throne, Jaime saw the glee on Cersei’s face. The sight of her pleasure at their looming demise gave Jaime renewed resolve.

_I have to keep Brienne safe from this crazy bitch._

Surging forward, Jaime lashed out at anyone within arm’s reach. His blade moved in ways it hadn’t in years. With an enraged roar, Jaime cut through several men within a heartbeat. With a moment’s pause between threats, Jaime pointed his blood-soaked sword at Cersei and screamed.

“I’ll not stop until it’s your blood on my blade.”

It was the first time that Jaime saw the cracks in Cersei’s confident demeanor. Standing from her throne, Cersei commanded the Kingsguard forward. She scrambled down the steps to flee to her chambers for safety.

Meryn commanded his sworn brothers forward, but his eyes lingered on Loras. “Guard the queen at her room! Let no one in!”

Jaime’s eyes tracked Cersei and Loras as they scrambled from the room. As the Kingsguard entered the fray, Jaime once more felt overwhelmed. Brynden and Selwyn were wounded and fatiguing. Barristan was surrounded and on a knee in pain.

Running back towards Barristan, Jaime felled any guard within arm’s length. Before a killing blow could reach Barristan, Jaime shoved his sword into the assailant’s neck. Standing at Jaime’s back, Barristan killed a man reaching out for Jaime.

Together, they struggled to hold off the wave of Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard. Somehow, Jaime became separated from Barristan once more.

“Jaime! Look out!”

Barristan’s voice drew Jaime’s attention. Ser Meryn’s sword was swinging straight towards Jaime’s neck. Before it met skin, Jaime startled as a dagger was thrust into Meryn’s eye. Meryn’s sword clattered to the floor as he screamed and clutched at his face.

Jaime knew that dagger. Following the arm that had pushed his dagger into Meryn’s eye, Jaime’s saw Brienne.

“Daggers are best for close range.”

Jaime didn’t know if he wanted to curse her or kiss her. At Brienne’s back, more aid poured into the room. Addam, Endrew, and the Tarth soldiers began helping their small group push forward. The tides were turning, and the crown’s men were once more back on their heels.

Jaime rushed to Brienne’s side and together they began felling guards from all angles. From the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Meryn on the floor and crawling towards the throne. Blood dripped from his face where his eye once was. 

A vicious smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. Cutting through men to get to Meryn, Jaime kept his eyes on the vile man who fancied himself a knight.

Meryn began to crawl up the steps towards the throne as though in search of safety. Following him, Jaime cut through the last Gold Cloak blocking his path. Jaime smiled down at Meryn as the knight crawled blindly up the steps.

Images of Meryn ordering men to rape Brienne flooded his mind. Years of Meryn taking advantage of girls yet grown mingled with Brienne’s screams in a wooded clearing.

“What are you looking for Meryn? A way out? A serving girl? Perhaps… a new sword?”

At the words, Jaime hauled Meryn to his feet. With a fistful of Meryn’s hair, Jaime shoved the man’s head into one of the many swords sticking out from the righthand side of the throne. Meryn’s body twitched as the blade cut through his skull. The life slowly left his eyes and his body sagged, but he was held upright where his head was impaled.

Turning around, Jaime saw Brienne’s eyes wide in shock as she stared up at him. The last of the Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard were felled by their allied forces. It was then that Jaime realized Ned, Robb, Edmure, and one guard had returned. Strangely, there were others there too. Men from the West.

_Did Addam bring all these men?_

Glancing at Addam, Jaime saw the confusion on his friend’s face. The activity in the room stilled and Barristan’s winded voice echoed off the throne room walls.

“Lets arrest the false queen.”

Jaime moved quickly down the stairs to Barristan’s side. Their group began to move through the castle and towards the royal apartments. The path was uncontested as dead Gold Cloaks lined the hall. Once more, confusion flooded Jaime’s mind.

_Why are these men dead? Who came through here?_

They began to jog forward; the confusion on Barristan’s face evident. When they arrived, only Loras Tyrell stood outside the door; the final obstacle to get to Cersei.

Barristan called out to Loras; his voice fatigued. “You don’t need to die for her Loras. There is no shame in laying down your sword. That is _not_ the queen.”

Loras stood tall before the door. “My job is to guard this room and guard it I shall. No one will arrest Cersei on my watch.”

Jaime sighed and raised his blade. “Loras, this isn’t…”

“I said, no one will _arrest_ her.”

From inside the room, Jaime heard a crash and a man’s voice screaming. He knew the voice immediately, and suddenly it occurred to Jaime what Loras was doing.

_There is no surrender. Loras wants Cersei dead, and Kevan is seeing it done._

Placing a hand on Barristan’s arm, Jaime spoke once more. “Loras, I’ll not stop my uncle. Move out of the way.”

At the words, Jaime saw the young knight’s jaw clench. Loras glanced at the door and moved away slowly; placing his sword on the ground. Barristan pushed Jaime backwards gently.

“Stay here, Jaime. You don’t need to see what is going on in that room.”

Loud cursing poured out from under the door as Barristan stepped forward and grabbed the handle. Pushing the door open, Barristan winced at the scene playing out before him. He turned his head away in a grimace and stood in the doorway to obstruct everyone’s view.

Unable to still his feet, Jaime took steps forward and peered into the room. Glancing over Barristan’s shoulder, Jaime observed Kevan smashing Cersei’s head repeatedly against the wall. His hands were wrapped around her neck as her limbs twitched and life left her body.

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight. Despite knowing what was going on in the room, Jaime was still unprepared to see it. Staring at his sister’s purpling lips and bleeding skull, Jaime felt in a trance. Something began tugging him backwards and it was only then that Jaime saw Ned come into view.

“Look away, Jaime! Out of here!”

_She’s dead. She’s dead, and I’m still alive. Is this real?_

As Ned pulled Jaime down the hallway and back towards the throne room, he mumbled something that Jaime couldn’t make out. Men began parting as they passed; eyes wide and staring at Jaime. It was only then that Jaime realized his cheeks were wet from tears.

Wiping at his face, Jaime hung his head. He was angry to be feeling any sorrow at Cersei’s death. She had killed their father, threatened to have himself and Tyrion killed, and encouraged Joffrey to have Brienne executed.

When they stepped into the throne room, Jaime saw several of their own dying or struggling with their wounds. Brienne was at her father’s side as Selwyn held his hand to a large wound at his leg. The older lord had a puddle of blood at his feet as Brienne tried to encourage him to sit. A wave of relief hit Jaime when he noted Brienne was unharmed.

Around the room, Jaime noticed the bodies of his sworn brothers. Jaime had never cared for most of them, but it was strange seeing them dead on the floor. Blood soaked through their white cloaks and mingled with the pool of blood from the Gold Cloaks. 

Glancing to his own body, Jaime saw blood splattered on his armor breeches, and cloak. The wound below his breastplate was throbbing, and Jaime suddenly felt overcome with exhaustion.

In the distance, the city bells began to ring. Jaime prayed that Dorne, the Reach, and the sellswords laid down their weapons at the signal to indicate the crown’s defeat. Ned guided Jaime to the base of the stairs and forced him to sit. Jaime was in shock as he appraised the room.

Taking a seat next to him, Ned exhaled loudly and put a steadying hand on Jaime’s shoulder. Jaime wanted to laugh at how the scene must have looked. The crowned sovereign was dead, but this time, Ned sat shoulder to shoulder with Jaime near the throne.

Glancing at Ned, Jaime grumbled. “You can take the fall this time. I’ll tell them you did it.”


	47. Brienne XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two moons have passed since the siege and Brienne reflects on many things.

It had been two moons since the siege of King’s Landing. As Ned hoped, the crown’s forces laid down their arms when the bells rang out. Neither Dorne nor the Reach had their hearts in the battle; both kingdoms questioning the crown’s involvement in the explosion at the Dragonpit.

As for the sellswords, they were hired by the crown. When the crown changed hands, or rather, heads, it took only the order from House Targaryen to call them off. Until the sellswords could treat their wounds and board their ships, the great beasts they rode into battle posed an interesting quandary for temporary housing. Brienne and Barristan had stood before one of the elephants following the battle; confusion heavy on features.

_ ‘What are we supposed to do with these?’ _

The animals were loud, smelly, and constantly eating. On more than one occasion, the elephants nearly trampled soldiers trying to restock the piles of brush offered as food. It took a fortnight before the Golden Company left Westeros. Small groups of their deserters had caused trouble in the Crownlands, but on the whole, the matter was subdued. 

For the crime of kinslaying, Kevan sat in a guarded room at the Red Keep. Until Jon arrived, Ned believed it necessary to hold Kevan despite the West crying out for his release. Ned ensured that Kevan was well fed and cared for. Jaime had visited his uncle a few times, but Kevan seemed unphased by his confinement. His brother and son were avenged, and an unworthy queen removed from the throne.

_ ‘Take my head. Send me to the Wall. Exile me to Essos. I care little. Because of your sister, I’ve lost my sons and brother.’ _

Jaime had only grumbled and vented to Brienne that Kevan still had a three-year-old daughter, Janei, and a wife, Dorna, who needed him. Further, it was Robb’s bannermen who killed Kevan’s twin boys, but Kevan found a way to blame Cersei for that too.

_ ‘If you and your sister didn’t disgrace our family and commit incest like some bloody Targaryens, we’d not have been in this bloody war!’ _

Jaime stopped visiting Keven after that. When Genna and Tyrion arrived, he would leave them to deal with Kevan. For her part, Brienne tried to visit Keven once after that, but he had few words to offer Brienne. 

As requested, Brienne sent word to the Wall requiring Jon’s immediate release from his vows with the Night’s Watch. He was to travel to King’s Landing and meet with the new sovereign. At first, Jon refused to leave. He and his sworn brothers were dealing with the Wildling army led by Mance Rayder. They had successfully held off a first wave of attacks, but the Wildlings were resilient. 

With Tyrion’s and Ned’s encouragement, Brienne sent word to Jon offering a compromise. In return for his swift journey south, Brienne would send part of the army north to deal with the Wildlings. The offer was greatly appreciated by Jon and his sworn brothers, and the army set out as promised.

Word came the day prior from Castle Black that the crown’s men had arrived and ensured the defeat of Mance’s men. The Wildling leader was taken prisoner, but unharmed.

Mance spoke of a common enemy and a need for alliance. He requested to speak to the Seven Kingdoms new sovereign to which Brienne agreed. Unfortunately, Jon had yet to arrive in the capital. Traveling with a small escort including Gendry Waters, Jon was due to arrive any day.

Inwardly, Brienne was relieved. As acting sovereign, she hated attending court and being placed in such a position. The only thing keeping Brienne from fleeing such duties was Jaime.

Since Cersei’s death, Jaime seemed lost. Brienne didn’t doubt or question Jaime’s expressed relief at her safety, but he had grown emotionally distant. Brienne was not the only person to notice his deteriorating mental state. Barristan’s eyes often wandered to Jaime when they stood guard. Worry lined the older knight’s features as he observed Jaime’s distant stares.

Aside from them, only Loras remained from Cersei’s Queensguard. Barritsan was uneasy about Loras’ presence given the ordeal with Renly, but Brienne believed Loras when he told the tale. She could tell by the pain in Loras’ eyes that he spoke true. While Brienne and Barristan disagreed on the matter, Barristan relented as they were in desperate need of guards for Brienne.

Until Jon arrived, the aged knight refused to name more Kingsguard and he questioned if any of them would even be accepted by Jon. Ned seemed to think quite the opposite. He felt that Jon would be a fool to release Barristan, Jaime, or Loras. They were the best of the kingdoms’ living knights. Still, they were only human.

To ensure the three men did not lack sleep, Brynden, Endrew, and Addam stayed behind in the city to help guard Brienne. She thought the effort unnecessary, but the men ignored her complaints.

_ Who would bother killing an ugly bastard merely sitting on the throne until the rightful king arrives? I’m hardly worth the effort. _

Word came from the Rock that Genna would arrive in a week with Tyrion, Pod, Tommen, and Myrcella. All Great Houses were summoned to King’s Landing for Jon’s looming coronation; a coronation that he didn’t know about. 

That morning, a raven flew in from Jon. He and his escort were days away. They had passed the crown’s army many weeks ago on the journey, and Jon indicated he was grateful to Brienne for honoring the pledge.

Unlike the army that moved straight to Castle Black, Jon had stopped at Winterfell to accompany Lady Catelyn and his  _ cousins _ on the journey south. The truth of Jon’s parentage was shared by Catelyn. Knowing what was to come in King’s Landing, Catelyn thought that Jon deserved to hear the truth in the privacy of their home. 

Now as Brienne sat in the throne room listening to petitioners, her eyes drifted to Jaime. As he had most days, Jaime looked distant. He was staring ahead vacantly as the petitioner begging aid from the crown. A group of sellswords left behind by the Golden Company had ravaged his lands. The crown’s men had dealt with the threat, but the petitioner’s homestead was in shambles and he lacked coin for repair.

Offering the man aid to rebuild and coin for materials, Brienne smiled warmly as the men thanked her profusely. He was the last petitioner of the day, and Brienne was glad for it. The room cleared out as Brienne began to descend the steps from the Iron Throne. That afternoon, Endrew and Jaime were on duty guarding Brienne.

Endrew had sustained a terrible slash to his left arm the day of the siege, but he was recovering well. Similarly, Jaime was recovering well from his wound. When Brienne heard the tale and how Barristan saved Jaime, she nearly cried from relief. 

As Brienne’s eyes met Endrew’s, she smiled warmly.

“Are you eager to return to Tarth?”

A dramatic groan pushed past Endrew’s lips and he spoke teasingly. “Gods, I never thought I’d miss your father’s complaining so much. In your position, you get to listen to kingdoms worth of bitching. I only have the one man to endure. I don’t envy it.”

Brienne chuckled lightly as the men fell into step with her. Jaime was at her right as Endrew was at her left. “Well I don’t envy Jon. This is temporary for me. I’ll be home with you soon enough.”

At her words, Jaime’s head snapped to the side; his eyes wide and panicked. “So you’ve decided then. You’re not staying?”

It was the most emotional Jaime had been since the siege. Brienne felt her face flush at the words. She could never control the way her heart skipped a beat and her stomach fluttered when Jaime was near. Even now when he seemed so distant, Brienne melted at any acknowledgement from him.

“Well I won’t be needed here with Jon returning.”

Jaime stopped walking and stared at Brienne as though she was half mad. “I need you here!”

The words were laced with pain and fear. Uncertain what to make of the outburst, Brienne stopped walking and turned to face Jaime. “I just…” Brienne interrupted her own words, too craven to say them out loud.

_ I just thought you wanted me gone. _

In the week following Cersei’s death, Brienne tried to comfort Jaime. The effort of picking up the pieces of his broken heart felt impossible, but she tried, nonetheless.

Brienne felt responsible for Jaime’s misery. If she hadn’t existed or had merely turned herself over to the crown, he would not be so broken. His sister would be alive, and the rest of his family intact. Instead, Brienne unintentionally drove him to choose a side. He chose duty over love, and he suffered for it now.

Glancing awkwardly at Endrew, Brienne took a step towards Jaime. Her voice was low and uncertain as she spoke. “I’m sorry for it all. Truly. If I could give my life to bring her back for you, I would.”

It hurt to give voice to the thought which had been rolling around in her mind for weeks. Wordlessly, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and pulled her into a small room on the side. When the door slammed shut behind them and left Endrew standing outside in confusion, Jaime rounded on Brienne.

“How could you say that!?  _ Why _ would you say that!?”

Brienne was at a loss for words as she stared into Jaime’s eyes. Aside from formal smiles and courtly bows, Jaime hardly spoke to Brienne for weeks.

“My existence has inconvenienced many, but you’ve felt the brunt of it. If it weren’t for me, you’d not have to choose duty over love. I’m sorry for it.”

Jaime’s hands flew to Brienne’s cheeks. His eyes were wild, and he shook his head in frantic refute. “Stop! Stop saying that. Brienne, how can I choose duty over love when I love  _ you _ ?”

After weeks of Jaime’s silence and emotional distance, Brienne felt confused by his sudden outpouring of emotions. “Jaime, you’ve been devastated about Cersei for near two moons. I understand it. Truly. I just…”

Brienne couldn’t finish speaking before Jaime’s lips were on hers. It was the first time he kissed her since leaving the Rock. The kiss felt as though Jaime was pouring all the words saved from two moons of silence into one action.

When their lips parted, Jaime’s tone was desperate as he continued to hold her face. “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sensing Jaime’s growing panic, Brienne tried to calm him. Her hands came to his wrists and she shushed him while walking him backwards towards a chair. When he was seated, Brienne pulled up her own and studied his pained expression.

“Jaime, you’ve hardly spoken to me or looked at me. I thought you might resent me for it all.”

Jaime swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. His feet reached out and hooked around the legs of Brienne’s chair, pulling her closer.

“At first, I just felt so numb. My family is destroyed. My father is dead. Cersei is dead. Joffrey is dead. She used  _ wildfire _ , Brienne. I couldn’t save her from herself. I failed all of them. If I had just done what my father asked of me so many years ago. If I had refused Cersei and only acted as a brother should. If I had just told someone about the bloody wildfire…”

Jaime grunted in frustration. His fists balled in his lap and his features set into a deep grimace. Hearing the despair in his voice broke Brienne’s heart. She reached out to pull his head against her chest and Jaime sunk into her embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’ve not been ignoring you out of resentment. I’m a bit lost in my own head and I can’t lose you. If Jon won’t release me, I fear what I’ll do. I can’t watch you go home to Tarth and marry another. I thought it might hurt less if I distanced from you a bit until he decides my fate. If he won’t release me, please don’t leave.”

Shaking her head against his, Brienne held tightly to Jaime. “I won’t leave you.”

_ What does that mean though? What will become of me? Will I hide away in the shadows and wait for him nightly like a brothel worker might? Will I never be able to do my duty to Tarth? _

As if reading her mind, Jaime’s shoulders trembled, and Brienne felt her neck moisten from his tears. “I’ve no right to ask it of you. You have your own duties and a life to live.”

Brienne understood sacrifice more than Jaime realized. She watched Jaime, her father, and so many others sacrifice for her. She would sacrifice for him without second thought.

“I’ll not leave you. I can be very annoying. My father always says as much. After a day of my bitching, Jon will release you if he hasn’t already.”

Jaime chuckled lightly at the words and tugged her closer. “I’m sorry.”

The words were strange. In her opinion, Jaime had nothing to be sorry for. He had done more for her than anyone; her family aside. For the rest of the kingdoms, Brienne had been a means to an end. To Jaime, she had been someone worth saving.

Still, she wanted him to know that it was alright to feel conflicted about his family. “Jaime, it’s alright to be sad about Cersei’s death. I understand how important she was to you. She was more than your sister for much of your life.”

Jaime’s arms wrapped tightly around Brienne. He clung to her as though the only thing to keep him from drifting in a sea of despair. Once he was calm and composed, they moved back into the hallway. Endrew was leaning against the opposite wall and picking at a loose thread on his jerkin. Always a patient man who read others well, Endrew nodded slightly in acknowledgement and moved back to their side without question.

Later that night when the guards on duty changed from Jaime and Endrew to Barristan and Loras, Brienne invited Ser Barristan to speak privately in her room. Loras maintained his post outside without thinking twice about Brienne’s request.

To Barristan’s relief, Brienne shared what was troubling Jaime. The older knight leaned back and rubbed his weary eyes. “Seven help me. This man needs to be released before he breaks down entirely. This isn’t healthy. I’ll see it done, princess. You have my word.”

A momentary silence settled over them as Barristan glanced over the balcony and sighed. “I was worried. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before. It’s as though he goes somewhere else when things are… difficult. I had worried that what troubled him could not be mended. The death of his kin perhaps. Of  _ her _ . If the thought of losing you is what troubles him… that I can help with.”

A shadow seemed to cloud Barristan’s eyes. He rubbed at his forehead as though the vision in his mind caused him great pain. “He was so young. We treated him with a cold indifference.”

_ Oh. He’s speaking of Aerys' Kingsguard now. _

“I never hated him. It was more that I hated what he  _ represented _ . The Kingsguard holds much tradition and prestige, and he was a boy. I worried that if he could become a Kingsguard, what was to protect our brotherhood from allowing a decline in quality or purity if we let mere boys among our ranks. What would protect our brotherhood from the likes of Meryn Trant? I was wrong of course. Ser Jaime was the best thing to happen to the Kingsguard, but Aerys didn’t appoint Jaime to prove me wrong. He appointed him to slight Tywin. Rather than hold it against Aerys, we held it against Jaime. Many times I stood guard beside him and I saw  _ that  _ look. He needed guidance and support. We were his sworn brothers, yet we didn’t offer him such things. I’ll live with that regret forever.”

Brienne felt badly for Barristan. He was a good man and an incredible knight, but to carry around such burdens was not good for him either. Considering his words, Brienne tried to offer reassurance.

“He looks up to you quite a bit. You might feel as though you could have done more before, but you’ve done quite a lot for him now. It was you he went to after taking the orders from Joffrey to arrest me. He could have gone to others, but he went to you.”

Barristan huffed a small laugh; a quiet hum on his lips. “That he would trust me more than his kin says much about his life. A rather bleak picture really. The realm owes him a chance at happiness now.” 

It was another two days until Jon arrived. When he entered the Red Keep, Brienne gasped at how much Jon had changed. The youthful innocence and question of purpose had been replaced by something deeper. Jon’s eyes were a man’s eyes now. He walked more confidently, but there was a weariness to him. Without asking, Brienne could tell that Jon had experienced things that most grown men would flee from the sight of. Despite knowing Jon’s true lineage, Brienne considered that Jon now looked more like Ned. A bit more brooding. A bit more overwhelmed. 

_ He’s not going to take it well when he is asked to rule.  _

Ned and Jon embraced, and a stream of apologies poured from Ned’s lips. Then Jon turned to face Brienne.

A small smile tugged at Jon’s lips as he appraised her. Jon’s tone was teasing when he spoke. “Hello  _ aunt _ . You seem taller than I recall.”

Brienne snorted and moved towards Jon. “Hello  _ nephew _ . You seem more brooding than I recall.”

Jon’s smile widened and for a moment, a flash of the boy she met just over a year ago at Winterfell shone through; not that he was gleeful to begin with.


	48. Catelyn IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is asked to be king and there is much to consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to try my best and double post today, but it might be in a few hours (work is a bit overwhelming today).

Catelyn watched the reunions from the rear of the hall; a soft smile on her face. The journey south had proved invaluable to Catelyn as she sought to mend her relationship with Jon and ease him into the request that Ned would present. 

Despite his shock, Jon was happy to learn of his lineage. For years, not knowing who his birth mother was tormented him. Jon only wanted to feel a sense of belonging and acceptance, and it was that desire which drove him to join the Night’s Watch. 

The words had broken Catelyn’s heart. She wanted to be a true aunt to him as she hadn’t been a proper mother. The journey south was the beginning of healing between them. Beyond discussing Jon’s lineage and their own relationship, Jon spoke of his time at the Wall.

Jon told tales or frightening things he had seen at Castle Black and north of the Wall. 

_‘Old Nan’s stories weren’t just horrors to keep us in bed at night. They’re real. I saw one with my own eyes. It tried to kill the Lord Commander.’_

Catelyn struggled to believe it all, but Jon was adamant that if they were to survive the true threat facing humanity, they would need to ally with Mance and the army of Wildlings at his back.

While Catelyn struggled to believe the words, she knew Jon to be an honest young man. He was not one to let his imagination run wild and overrule sound judgement. While Catelyn struggled to believe tales of dead things walking, she did know of the Wildlings and the discord between their people and those of the Seven Kingdoms.

_I must trust Jon in this. I owe him that much after everything. If he says we must ally with them, I’ll back him, though I may be the only one._

Now as Catelyn stood back and allowed Jon his time to reunite with Ned and to meet Brienne for who she truly was to him, she smiled. It struck Catelyn just how deeply embedded in her family Brienne had become after a short stay at Winterfell. Jon had shared of his nightly sparring with Brienne, and their comradery forged over shared feelings of not belonging.

The young pair laughed at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the throne. Neither wished to rule, but both had the temperament for it. Soon, Ned guided Jon, Catelyn, Brienne, and Barristan into a small study. 

While Catelyn had told Jon of his lineage, she had not shared what they would ask of him. It was an overwhelming request after receiving even more overwhelming information. Catelyn wanted Jon to have time to digest information of his lineage before being handed a crown. 

They took the journey south to discuss all that Catelyn knew. She shared what little she knew of Rhaegar and Lyanna to give Jon some sense of kinship, but in truth, Catelyn knew that Ned and Barristan would offer the most information; the former of Lyanna and the latter of Rhaegar.

They spent the first hour hearing from Jon about what had happened at Castle Black. There was discussion of the Wildling army and a need to speak with Mance. The unknown status of Benjen Stark was upsetting, but even more upsetting was hearing of everything that Jon endured with the Night’s Watch.

Catelyn watched as Brienne, Barristan, and Ned struggled to comprehend the information. Despite the looks of disbelief, they did not express doubt. Then Ned shared information of all that had happened south of the Wall. Hearing Ned give voice to all they had endured over the last year and a half was exhausting.

“We need you to take the crown.” Ned’s tone was resigned as he studied Jon. 

Jon’s head turned to Brienne who sat at his side; his eyes betraying his shock. “I don’t want it. Brienne would be better suited for it. She spent her life as a trueborn heir of House Tarth while the North only knows me as a bastard.”

Brienne only chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t want it either, though my claim is nothing compared to yours. It would seem that I am the bastard and you the trueborn. As Rhaegar’s son, you _would_ be next in line.”

Catelyn bit back a laugh as she watched the pair continue to exchange opinions as to why the other was far more capable of ruling. At last, it was Barristan who spoke and ended the debate.

“You would both make excellent rulers. I’ve not had the privilege of knowing Prince Jon as I have Princess Brienne, but I can see you both share many qualities. I also know the type of person who Princess Brienne is, and I know she would not vouch for someone if she felt the person unworthy. I imagine this is all very jarring, Prince Jon, but think of what you can do with the crown. You speak of these dead things coming for us. As king, you can ensure our kingdoms take any threat seriously. You can negotiate with this King beyond the Wall. As a brother of the Night’s Watch, you swore to guard the realms of men. Consider this a variation of those vows. Think of all you can accomplish and all the people you can save.”

_Smart man. He has read Jon well. He plays to his sense of honor and duty._

Jon sighed heavily and closed his eyes as though steadying himself. “I don’t know how to be a king. I hardly know how to be a noble. I spent my life thinking myself a bastard.” 

Ned reached over and squeezed Jon’s arm. “That was my fault surrounding your identity. I am sorry for what it has done to you, but there was a reason I had you follow me as my sons did. You know how to rule. You know all that is expected of a noble. I’ll be right here with you. If you like, I can serve as Hand. We’ll surround you with a strong council.”

Nodding slowly, Jon relented. Brienne’s relief was visible as her shoulders relaxed and she smiled widely. With the agreement in place, they set about the task of discussing Jon’s coronation and putting together a small council. 

His coronation would be in a week’s time, and it was important that Jon be prepared to make some key announcements. There were still several representatives from the Great House assembled in the city; House Stark, House Tully, House Lannisters, House Tyrell, and House Baratheon. It was a rare thing for so many to be amassed at once, and Ned thought it important to take advantage of.

The meeting dragged on for another hour with the group discussing numerous topics. First, they made several key appointments to form a strong small council. Ned would take on the role of Hand and Robb would rule at Winterfell in his absence. For Master of Coin, Catelyn advocated strongly for Tyrion.

“No one handles finances like a Lannister, but further, Lord Tyrion will offer Jon far more valuable advice than how to save and spend coin. He’ll offer Jon advice on how to rule and unite the kingdoms. Tyrion is one of the smartest men I’ve ever known, and he is a good man. I trust he’ll make a strong ally.”

All those seated around the table agreed wholeheartedly with Catelyn’s assessment. In truth, Catelyn was also hoping that Jon would formally recognize Jaime as Lord of Casterly Rock and release him from his vows.

For the role of Master of Law, they decided to offer the role to Lady Olenna Tyrell. The move meant to accomplish two things; a peace offering and a strategic play. 

Firstly, the crown needed to make peace with the Reach. Cersei had wronged House Tyrell with her gross mistreatment and murder of Margaery. It had come to light that the queen slowly poisoned the young girl after finding out about her pregnancy.

Second, Olenna was a shrewd woman, but fiercely intelligent and cunning. Having her on the side of the crown would only strengthen the kingdoms. With Tyrion and Olenna working together, Catelyn mused that the small council may prove unstoppable.

Varys would remain on as Master of Whisperers, but the death of Grand Maester Pycelle would require a new appointment from the Citadel. For Master of Ships, Ned suggested a truce with the Iron Islands.

“They’re the greatest naval threat in Westeros, and Lord Balon has a daughter, Yara, who they speak highly of. We could offer the role to her and return Theon home.”

It seemed a risk to Catelyn to ally with House Greyjoy after the recent betrayal, but there would be no harm in speaking with them. Catleyn did concede that House Greyjoy boasted incredible naval strength, and Theon was much changed after his ordeal with House Bolton. Jon was enraged after hearing of Theon’s betrayal, but he agreed to speak with Yara and make a decision thereafter.

Not surprisingly, Jon wanted Ser Barristan as Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. Brienne smiled widely and praised Jon’s selection.

“You couldn’t find a better Lord Commander than Ser Barristan. He saved my life, and he is as loyal as they come. Not to mention… no one will get near you with a blade.”

Barristan smiled fondly at the praise. With a small nod of thanks, the aged knight had looked to Jon. “I do have a few ideas surrounding the Kingsguard that I should like to share with you, your Grace.”

Jon smiled in reply, but his next words caught everyone by surprise. “Of course. We’re going to need the best in the Kingsguard, not so much to guard me, but to ensure the greatest preparation for the true threat to come. I daresay that with the three Kingsguard I’ve already inherited, we’re off to an incredible start.”

Catelyn watched as Brienne shifted uneasily, but it was Barristan who spoke. “About that… I was going to suggest we release both men, or at least give them the option to leave.”

Jon deflated at the words. He glanced at those amassed around the table and sighed. “I would rather not, Ser Barristan. Again, it isn’t for me that I need them, it is for what is to come. I need the best, and well… Ser Jaime is just that. Lady Stark told me the truth of Aerys and all he has done for House Stark. That is the type of knight we need to win this war with death itself.”

_Seven hells. I do believe I talked him up too much._

Jon continued as Catelyn reprimanded herself for not mentioning how hopelessly in love Jaime and Brienne had fallen. “I hear that Ser Loras is an incredible swordsman as well. If this is about the matter with Renly...”

Barristan put up a dismissive hand and shook his head in refute. “I’ll admit, I was uncertain at first about the man. Just last week, I spoke to Ser Davos Seaworth on the matter. He confirmed Loras’ initial report. I daresay that I’ll never understand the nonsense the man claimed about a red priestess, but, knowing the nature of Loras’ _relationship_ with Renly, I am inclined to believe it. Princess Brienne believed Loras straightaway, and she is a sound judge of character.”

Barristan’s eyes darted to Brienne as he formed his next words. “If I may, there are more things to consider in your Kingsguard than skill. Both men have endured much in the past year. Due to my negligence, I fear that Ser Jaime has endured far more than necessary in his life. I would speak plainly with you, King Jon.”

Jon nodded for Barristan to continue, but a knock at the door disrupted the conversation. With a heavy sigh, Ned called out for the visitor to enter. Varys moved into the room and bowed. In his hands, Varys held a sealed missive. Glancing between Brienne and Jon, the Spider seemed uncertain who to give the parchment.

“Apologies your… Graces… I’m not certain who wears the crown at this particular moment.”

Jon and Brienne exchanged knowing smiles, but Brienne was all too eager to cast aside the responsibility. “I’m just Brienne once more, Lord Varys. Thank the gods.”

Humming slightly, Varys handed the missive to Jon. The Spider lingered near Brienne. “Princess Brienne, the West has arrived. Lady Genna is a bit… frazzled. She insists on seeing her um… _goodniece_ ? She needs to ensure you are in fact well, and that word sent West did not downplay any injuries as we _supposedly_ did Ser Jaime’s.”

Brienne snorted at the words; her eyes darting to Jon. With an understanding smile, Jon inclined his head towards the door. His voice was slightly teasing as he spoke “Can I find you later for a spar, aunt? I’ve encountered no one at the Wall quite so skilled as you.”

A blush spread across Brienne’s cheeks at the compliment. Nodding in agreement, Brienne stood and left the room with Varys. Catelyn noticed a wordless exchange between Brienne and Barristan. Whatever Brienne saw in the older knight’s eyes appeased the worry clouding her features. As Brienne left the room, Barristan chuckled and raised a brow at Jon.

“The princess thinks she is getting off easy. I would take matters of the crown over an angry Lady Genna any day.”

Most of them knew Genna, and Barristan’s words rang true. A momentary lightness filled the room.

Jon’s brows furrowed and he looked questioningly around the table. “Brienne is Genna’s goodnice now? Is she wed to Lord Tyrion?”

Biting back a laugh, Catelyn shook her head in refute. “Brienne is still unwed, though, I may have been remiss in sharing some _information_.” Catelyn’s eyes darted to Barristan who tried to smother a laugh with his hand. The answer did little to provide Jon with context, but Catelyn hoped the very matter questioned was what Barristan was leading up to.

With a heavy sigh, Ned rubbed his forehead and appraised Jon. “Perhaps we should break for a bit and come back to it after. We could all use a meal and a break from this.”

Glancing at Barristan, Jon shrugged. “I don’t mind talking with the Lord Commander first.”

Barristan nodded his agreement, but Catelyn wanted to ensure that Jon made the right decision to let Jaime go free. As Ned stood to leave, Catelyn sat rooted in place. “I have no place on your small council, Jon, but if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to stay. I did not disclose some things on the journey south about Ser Jaime and Brienne that I would like to share. Things I would ask you to consider before you make your decision concerning Ser Jaime’s placement in your Kingsguard.”

Ned chuckled at the words. Aside from Barristan, Catelyn and Tyrion were the strongest advocates for any scenario allowing Jaime and Brienne to wed and live in peace. Placing a warm hand on Jon’s shoulder, Ned offered a small smile.

“Good luck. Loathe as I am to admit it, I would be in favor of what they mean to discuss with you.”

Jon’s brows furrowed at the words, but he held his tongue as Ned left the room. When the door closed behind, Barristan took a deep breath and looked to Jon.

“In jest, I’ve been called Ser Grandfather. I’m a man of tradition, placing my vows before all things; even before reason and, at times, justice. Despite my age, I’ve learned much over this past year and a half, and most of it shook the very foundation of my beliefs; of who I identify myself as.”

A light laugh shook Barristan’s chest as a fond smile spread across his face. “You’re what? Seven-and ten? It took a boy your age to change my world.”

Jon’s brows furrowed once more. “My age? Robb?.”

Shaking his head, Barristan hummed. “I didn’t say _when_ that boy changed my world, though I agree, Robb’s actions certainly changed a lot in recent years. No, the boy I speak of was the youngest knight ever raised to the Kingsguard. Ser Jaime. You know the truth of Aery now, but you might not know why he was there to begin with. Why he was named to the Kingsguard and left behind with Aerys that is.”

Jon nodded knowingly at the words. “I can imagine why. He’s incredible with a sword. Truthfully, I’ve never seen his like. I saw him spar at Winterfell.”

“Don’t tell him that. His ego needs no more inflating.” Barristan’s chest rumbled with laughter as he crossed his arms. With a deep sigh, Barristan shook his head. “To the kingdoms, it seemed that way of course. An incredible, natural talent fit to guard a king. In truth, the decision was rooted in something far more sinister. Ser Jaime was a political prisoner in Aerys’ Kingsguard; a way for your grandfather to control the West. A way to control his former Hand and friend, Lord Tywin. Aerys took Tywin’s heir from him.”

Jon startled and glanced at Catelyn. “But, he had Lord Tyrion.”

“No, he didn’t. To Tywin, Tyrion may well have been little more than House Lannister’s own bastard raised at the Rock.”

The words resonated with Jon. “Aye, Lord Tyrion made such a comment to me at Winterfell. He said ‘all dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes.’ I didn’t think it the same, but perhaps I had the wrong of it.”

Catelyn felt a pang of sympathy for both Jon and Tyrion.

_I should have been more for Jon. And may the Seven Hells consume Tywin! Tyrion deserved better as did Jon. I never wanted to share such things in common with Tywin bloody Lannister._

Barristan nodded in reply. “To the West, Tywin Lannister had only twins. He felt his son stolen from him, and he spent many of his years trying to get Jaime back. If the best of the Kingsguard is what you want, just know that most knights are not willing to sacrifice their lands, titles, and a future family. Whether that should remain a vow or not, I leave to you. I gave up my own claim to join, and I’ve been proud of my decision ever since; or so I thought. When Aerys went mad, Robert got drunk, and Joffrey turned cruel, I questioned it often. The voice in the back of my mind wondered at it. Were these men worth fighting against my own House for? Were these men worth defending? Were these men worth all that I gave up?”

Jon nodded in understanding. “That’s why I want to keep a man like Ser Jaime in the Kingsguard. He broke his vows as a Kingsguard, but he did so for the good of the realm. If I were to go mad, I would want him to stop me. I would want him to save the people.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Barristan’s lips. “And he would. He killed Aerys and fought his House for what is just and honorable. You would find no greater Kingsguard than him. I pale in comparison, but even if he cares little for ruling at the Rock, I also know that he is a man driven by _other_ reasons.”

Raising a knowing brow, Barristan looked to Jon for sign of understanding. “The rumors of Robert’s children are true. All three. He joined the Kingsguard for Cersei, though he abandoned her and the crown for an even greater love.”

Jon’s eyes went wide. Glancing at Catelyn, his mouth gaped slightly. “He… he loves Brienne?”

A small smile tugged at Catelyn’s lips. “A bit of an understatement really. You can see why Lady Genna has claimed her already. I believe the West is quite eager to have their heir back.”

“Which brings me to the next reason the Kingsguard will never have the best.” Barristan continued at Jon’s side. “Many knights are unwilling to give up their lands and titles, but most would scoff at giving up the prospect of a family; a legacy. Our vows of chastity, among the rest of our vows, are modeled after the Night’s Watch which I know you are _quite_ familiar with. Let me ask you, how many of your sworn brothers frequented Mole’s Town?”

A knowing smirk stretched across Barristan’s face as Jon stammered. The reply was unnecessary as Barristan chuckled. “I can assure you… my brotherhood is no different. Unfortunately, a _certain someone_ cuckolded his king. Don’t get me started on that, but the point is, when a person is in love or has desires of the flesh, it is far more difficult to turn your back on that for a White Cloak.”

Jon bit his lip; his words were but a whisper. “I… I broke _those_ vows too. I didn’t intend to, but… I loved her.”

Catelyn’s heart broke for the young man before her. She reached across the table and offered a sympathetic smile. On the road south, they spoke of Ygritte. That the girl died in Jon’s arms at Castle Black was a cruel fate for such a young love.

Barristan nodded in understanding. “As did Ser Jaime. As did most.”

“I want the best Ser Barristan. I’d like to work with you to change the Kingsguad vows. I want them to serve the realm; not _just_ the crown. Knightly oaths before Kingsguard oaths. I would allow them to marry or take lovers. To hold lands and titles.”

With a small smile, Barristan nodded. “I think that would bring you the right quality of man, but there is a problem in that. How can they be expected to rule their lands while in King’s Landing guarding you and the realm? A Kingsguard is bound to his oaths _for life_.”

Jon considered the words and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Must it be for life?” Catelyn gave voice to what felt a rather obvious solution. Both men looked at her; Jon with hope and Barristan with a slight dismay. “Surely a minimum service could be imposed, or simply at-will service to the crown.”

Barristan nodded. “It could work. I must say, it is difficult to build a sense of brotherhood among the Kingsguard when men are stepping in and out, but… I’ve also seen Kingsguard not bond. In truth, after Aerys’ Kingsguard, I struggled to bond with my brothers. I wanted to, but… I couldn’t move past those I mourned.”

There was a deep pain in Barristan’s eyes as he spoke. Looking away, Barristan shook his head as though willing away a deep hurt. “Ser Jaime is all I have left of that Kingsguard. The only knight I can’t tolerate laying to rest with our fallen brothers. He should know some happiness though. Perhaps a term to serve.”

Jon nodded in understanding. “I think that’s fair. Perhaps seven years given the numbers significance. Ser Barristan, what happens if a knight can’t physically perform duties required?”

The older knight hummed at the question and turned his attention back to Jon. “His sworn brothers take on his share until he is fit to perform. If age and decline in skill is the reason, the sworn brothers take on the role indefinitely.”

Jon’s brows furrowed. “That could work so long as I don’t have too many unable to perform duty at once.”

Barristan huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “I doubt you’ll want other old men like me in the Kingsguard. You needn’t worry about the men’s ability to guard you or defend the realm in your name. Perhaps an injury here or there, but the young one’s bounce back quickly enough.”

“I meant recovery from birthing a babe. I’m not so familiar with the matter, but I’ve watched Lady Stark birth my younger cousins. It doesn’t seem a simple task.”

Barristan startled at the words. His chest shook with laughter as he looked to Jon. “I can guarantee you that I’ll not be birthing babes anytime soon.”

Jon laughed with Barristan. “No, I imagine not. I meant Brienne. As I said, I want the best on my Kingsguard. I mean to knight her and then ask her to join.”

Catelyn’s jaw dropped at the words. Glancing at Barristan, she could see her shock mirrored on the older knight’s face. Slowly, his shock transformed into a smile. His lips pursed together as his eyes misted. When he spoke, Catelyn could hear the emotion in his voice.

“You’ll make a fine king. Rhaegar would be proud, though your Stark kin might be prouder still.” Barristan swallowed before continuing; his tone much lighter and playful. “I daresay, you’ll make shift assignments difficult for me. If you want to stay alive and keep the realm safe, I can’t have Ser Jaime and Princess Brienne play at guard together. They see nothing else when the other is around.”

Jon smiled widely at the words. “You would say she is worthy of knighthood then?”

Barristan spoke confidently, his chin raised high. “I would say she is worthy of the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so is it ideal for the knights in love to be on the Kingsguard? Yeahhhhh.... no. Butttt... plot. We still have Littlefinger with Daenerys and the dead to come.


	49. Jaime XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finds out his fate, but he has another request for the new king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Catelyn POV)

Jaime sat beside Genna and Brienne as his aunt fussed over them. Her arrival was like a storm blowing in from the sea. She appraised each of them and inspected their injuries sustained in battle. Huffs of annoyance filled the air around them as Jaime exchanged an amused look with Brienne.

When she had her fill of worrying and complaining, Genna asked after Kevan. Brienne sighed; her lips downturn. “We’ve tried to keep his spirits up, but he seems… lost.”

Jaime’s face fell at the words. Only days prior, Brienne had accused him of the same. It broke Jaime’s heart that she felt pushed away by him, though in fairness, Jaime had been distancing from her. The thought of being separated from the only good thing in his life broke his heart.

_ At least I’ll have Barristan to grow old and miserable with. Though… he’ll leave me too someday. Nothing is constant. _

Reaching for Brienne’s hand, Jaime reminded himself that he had a constant now. He had Brienne, and she was willing to give up everything to stay with him. The selfish part of Jaime greedily accepted it, but that part of Jaime grew weaker by the day. For Brienne, he couldn’t be selfish. He wanted to see her happy.

The night following the siege played out in Jaime’s mind. 

_ Two moons prior _

Jaime had received stitches from a maester brought to the Red Keep to tend to the injured soldiers. Afterwards, he sought out Brienne who was with Selwyn. The older lord had taken a nasty gash to the thigh during the battle, but Jaime was glad to see the color back in his face.

As he approached, Jaime heard Selwyn reprimanding Brienne. “We could have lost you!  _ I _ could have lost you! You’re all that I have left. Now that Jon is alive, you’ll return home. Please, don’t leave me to be the last Tarth in this world.”

_ The last Tarth. She has a duty to her father. To Tarth.  _

Swallowing down the hurt from the throught, Jaime approached and nodded at the pair. “My favorite islanders. I’m glad you both look well.”

Selwyn smiled widely and pulled Jaime into a hug. “Thank you. You kept my girl safe. Saved her several times over now. I owe you my life. Thanks to you, I’ll get my Brienne back!”

The happiness on the older lord’s face was impossible to deprive him of. Glancing at Brienne, Jaime allowed selflessness to win out.

“Yes. She’ll be safe at home now. I do hope you’ll share her with the mainland though. We’re not so rich in her quality as Tarth.”

Selwyn beamed at the words, but inside, Jaime was breaking. In the span of weeks, he had lost his father, sister, nephew-son, and now, Brienne. At the exchange, Brienne looked to the ground and nodded.

“Yes. Home.”

Now as Jaime sat beside Brienne with Genna yammering on about all that would need doing in the West, Jaime glanced at Brienne. Every part of him wanted Brienne to stay, but if Jon didn’t release him, Jaime knew that he could not keep her. Brienne deserved love and a family to call her own.

Having watched her with the young children over past moon turns, Jaime knew that Brienne would make an incredible mother. A mother to whom all other mothers would pale in comparison. She had looked happy caring for Rickon, and then later Myrcella. Jaime couldn’t deprive her of that.

Both Barristan and Brienne hoped to sway Jon into releasing Jaime from his vows, but something deep within told Jaime it wouldn’t come to pass. He had sinned too greatly by laying with his sister that surely this was to be his punishment.

When Brienne joined Jaime and Genna, she had whispered into his ear.  _ “Jon wants you to stay. I left just before Ser Barristan tried to dissuade him, though. Perhaps there is hope.” _

From the corner of Jaime’s eye, he saw Ser Barristan approach. The older knight’s eyes looked determined as ever. It was as though he was working himself up to something. Looking away quickly, Jaime felt his heart begin to race. Sensing his mounting panic, Brienne glanced in all directions, but muttered under her breath when she saw Ser Barristan walking towards them.

Brienne squeezed his hand reassuringly, but the truth of her opinion shone brightly in her eyes.

_ She thinks I’m fucked too. Is it too late to flee with her to Essos? _

When Barristan reached their small group, he bowed and greeted the women formally. “Lady Genna. Princess.” 

“Ser Barristan, I do hope you’re here to release my nephew from his silly little words.”

“Genna!” Jaime’s tone was a warning to which the older woman waved him off.

“How many of our family are we to offer up to the realm!? Your uncle should be released by now! He did us all a favor. I’ll not lose you too.”

Jaime sighed and shook his head. “No one forced my vows, Aunt Genna. I spoke them freely.”

Crossing her arms, Genna grumbled at Jaime’s words. “You spoke them with Cersei atop you.”

Jaime’s face reddened in shame; his hand gripping Brienne’s tighter. Looking up at Barristan, he could see the answer on the older knight’s face. “Walk with me, Ser Jaime.”

Closing his eyes, Jaime took a deep breath and stood from his seat beside Brienne. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before falling into step beside Ser Barristan. Neither man spoke as they walked the gardens. Barristan sighed as he appraised the space.

“I’ve not been in these gardens for many years now. I almost forgot we had them.”

Jaime snorted at the older knight’s words. In truth, Jaime rarely had the opportunity to walk the gardens either. Such activity was reserved for those living freely; not those serving.

With a grunt, Barristan sat on a bench facing a large fountain. His hand reached out and tapped the space beside him.

Jaime did as his Lord Commander bid. His eyes looked to the ground as he braced for word of Jon’s refusal to release him.

“You’re to stay, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime closed his eyes and swallowed the scream threatening to escape. When he spoke, his voice was coated in unshed tears. “I understand.”

Composing himself, Jaime opened his eyes and nodded. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Kingsguard serve for life.”

“Well… not anymore.” Barristan exhaled as he spoke.

The words startled Jaime. He looked to Barristan in question. A small smile tugged at the older knight’s lips. “There are some  _ changes _ being made to the Kingsguard vows. I’ll be working on new vows with King Jon that will be used in a week’s time after his coronation. Your new vows will not require service for life. They will not require chastity. They will not require that you forfeit lands and titles. They will not require blind allegiance to unworthy sovereigns. They will not require that you live without your desired wife and children to call your own.”

Jaime felt the tears welling in his eyes. For the first time since he knelt before Lord Commander Hightower, Jaime felt free. He buried his face in his hands and cried; his shoulders shaking from the effort to muffle his sobs.

Barristan pulled Jaime into a firm embrace. “You’re not a political prisoner any longer. You’re not held here by duty to unworthy sovereigns and kin.”

“Thank you.” It was all Jaime could manage as he wiped aggressively at the tears falling from his face.

The older knight huffed a laugh at the words as he continued to hold Jaime close. “It’s the Seven Kingdoms that should thank you.”

Jaime considered how much more Barristan had done for him than Tywin. Where Tywin demanded Jaime leave the guard and take on another unwanted duty, Barristan fought to give Jaime freedom to choose and find happiness. Where Tywin called Jaime a failure, Barristan spoke with pride of Jaime’s accomplishments. Where Tywin treated Jaime as little more than a political piece, Barristan offered paternal care. 

The words came out before Jaime could halt them. “I wish you were my father instead of Tywin.”

Embarrassment immediately flooded Jaime’s cheeks and he stammered to correct the words. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean… I only meant to say…”

Squeezing Jaime’s shoulder, Barristan cut him off. “I would proudly call you son just as I proudly call you brother. You’re a good man, Jaime. I regret only realizing it so late.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Barristan sighed heavily. “I imagine you’ll be the first to take your marital vows in a white cloak.”

A small smile tugged the corners of Jaime’s lips. “I hope so.”

“Yes, well I only hope that your room in the White Sword Tower is not placed near mine. I don’t need to hear my sworn… siblings… going at it; particularly ones I’ve come to think of more as my children.” Barristan huffed a laugh at his own words, but confusion flooded Jaime.

“Sworn  _ siblings _ …”

Barristan feigned forgetfulness. Throwing back his head, Barristan’s mouth gaped. “Ah, yes! How could I forget. King Jon means to break another tradition. He plans to knight Brienne the day of his coronation, and we are both in agreement that she will make a fine addition to the Kingsguard.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. His chest swelled with pride as he considered the love of his life being knighted before all of court. “I can think of no finer Kingsguard…  _ after  _ you and me of course.”

“Seven help me. There he is. Well I’ve missed you, Ser Jaime. For a moment, I was worried you had become humble.”

Snorting, Jaime shook his head. “Where would the fun be in that?”

Barristan sighed and nodded slowly. “We’re going to have an incredible Kingsguard. One to rival Aerys’ Kingsguard. I presented Ser Loras with the same information, and he is keen to stay on and serve. I think he needs it in a way. Ser Brynden will take his vows too.”

A youthful excitement touched Jaime’s tone and he smiled widely. “Ser Brynden!?”

A light laughter shook Barristan’s chest. “Great. So now I can’t place you on shifts with Brienne  _ or  _ Brynden. You’re making my life far too difficult.”

“Well you can’t put me on shift with Ser Loras either. I’m far prettier than Renly, and I fear that I’ll only distract him.”

Barristan groaned in mock irritation at the words. “Come on, lets get you back to your aunt and the Princess before they start yelling at our king about you. Lets keep her knighting and proposed position on the Kingsguard to ourselves for now. I trust you’ll come up with something to make it memorable.”

A slew of indecent thoughts flew through Jaime’s mind. As if reading them, Barristan put up a hand. “Never mind. I’ll think of something  _ proper _ for the day.”

As they began to walk towards the Keep, something gnawed at Jaime. “I’d like to speak with the king first. I have a request to make.”

Barristan eyed Jaime suspiciously, but said nothing of it. They moved into the Red Keep and found Jon where Barristan left him. The young king was in the study eating while listening to Ned discuss the potential alliance with Mance. At their entry, both men looked up in surprise.

Jon smiled and nodded at them. “Lord Commander, do you have need of me?”

“Ser Jaime would like to speak with you. As I did with Ser Loras, I shared the revision to the Kingsguard vows.”

Jon smiled and nodded. “Good. Thank you. Ser Jaime, I trust you find the terms agreeable?”

“I do. Thank you, though I have a request of you. Well… two I suppose.”

From the corner of his eye, Jaime could see Barristan tilting his head curiously. Sucking in a deep breath. “The first, I ask mercy for Myrcella and Tommen. They’re good children and it isn’t their fault that I committed treason. And to that point and my second request, I would ask to be punished appropriately for the crime. I would request you strip me of my lands. Please, name Tyrion as Lord of the Rock. He deserves it far more than I ever could.”

All men looked to Jaime in shock at the words. Jon glanced around and stood slowly. “Well… I’m glad to name Lord Tyrion as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West if that is what you desire, but… I’ll need to keep your crime vague when I announce it.”

Jaime’s head tilted in question. The realm knew of his sinful relationship with Cersei and the true lineage of the children. The rumors swirled as viciously as a storm might. It was impossible to deny.

“The war was fought to overthrow false sovereigns. The realm knows of my crime.”

Jon shook his head. “I had aimed to refute it. How about ‘for crimes against your king’. I know what it’s like to grow up a bastard. My cousins spent time with your… kin. They say Myrcella and Tommen are of high quality, like you. I’ll stand by King Robert’s claim and as I see it, there is no need to discuss the accuracy of that claim. Besides, it isn’t as though they would suddenly be afforded things not fitting their station. They are of a Great House after all.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the offer. It was far more generous than he hoped for. He had feared that his sins would see the children punished, but Jon was offering them a future. Before Jaime could form words to reflect his appreciation, Jon continued. 

“Of course, Tommen will be second in line for Storm’s End. I’ll be legitimizing Gendry Waters. He’s a good man, and I think that with proper support, he could grow to become a fine lord. I’ll be naming Ser Davos as Castellan of Storm’s End. He is in the unique position to understand the transition and expectations from common folk to nobility. He can help Gendry navigate better than most could give his own experiences. Further, Lord Selwyn has offered to vouch for the young man. Fortunately, Gendry only need learn how to play at lord. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands is passing to Lord Selwyn Tarth.”

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face. He had to take a deep breath to keep from crying once more. “Thank you. You’re much more Rhaegar than Aerys… thank the gods.”

Barristan hummed in agreement at Jaime’s side. “All fine decisions, your Grace. Would you have Tommen and Myrcella foster with Gendry?”

“No, after all they’ve lost, I thought they should be with family. I was thinking they could stay here with Lord Tyrion. This way, they could see both their  _ uncles _ …” Jon raised a brow at Jaime before continuing. “... and their half-brother, Gendry. We’ll be honest with Gendry about it all.”

Jaime once more felt overwhelmed by Jon’s generosity. It would be wonderful to be around the children. To  _ truly _ be around them without Cersei pushing him away like something shameful. Images of Brienne caring for Myrcella flashed in his mind. Images of Tommen playing with Tyrion and Pod along the journey north and south mixed with the first image. A small smile spread over Jaime’s face.

“I… I can’t repay you enough for it.”

Jon smiled and looked to Ned. “Don’t thank me. It was the Lord Hand’s idea. I merely agreed out of experience as a bastard, and then I offered some suggestions. This is for the best.  _ No secrets… _ only acknowledgement and support of the children Robert claimed. He never denied them, and as such, no one should.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Ned in shock. Understanding passed between them; a reconciliation of sorts. Jaime nodded his thanks and turned to leave, but paused at the door.

“By the way, King Jon.” Jaime watched as Jon looked to him after taking his seat. “I think you’ve just improved the knighthood tenfold with your planned addition. You’ve set a standard that none of us could hope to achieve.”

Leaving the room, Jaime had only one person that he desperately needed to see. With Barristan still at his side, Jaime spoke excitedly. “She’ll marry me, right? This would be most unfortunate if she thought better of it. I didn’t even court her properly, though I’m not even certain how to do that…”

“Jaime.” Barristan’s voice was grounding as they walked back towards the table where they previously left the women. “I can’t imagine she will say ‘no’, though…” A smirk tugged at Barristan’s lips as he glanced at Jaime. “... has she met Gendry yet?”

At the reference to the man who Varys and Ned swore was Renly and Robert reborn, Jaime narrowed his eyes in feigned offense. “I am far prettier than Renly.”

Barristan hummed as they walked. “They do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Jaime scoffed and dug into his pocket. “Gendry doesn’t have our love coin, so he stands no chance.”

Rolling his eyes, Barristan muttered more to himself than Jaime. “I don’t even want to know.”

When at last they arrived outside, both women stood at their approach. Their eyes searched the men’s faces for the answer to their shared question.

Jaime’s face broke into a wide smile as he pulled Brienne into a firm embrace. “I’m to stay in the Kingsguard…. The new Kingsguard.”

Confusion lined Brienne’s face and her expression fell at the words, but Jaime continued speaking. “The Kingsguard can wed. They no longer have to serve for life.”

From behind Brienne, Genna screamed and she looked to Barristan. “Gods dammit Barristan! You made me think it a lost cause!”

The older pair began to bicker as Barristan denied implying such things. Ignoring their halfhearted disagreement, Jaime kissed Brienne as though the first time. When their lips parted, he took a deep breath and looked deep into Brienne's eyes.

“Will you still be Tyrion’s goodsister?”


	50. Jaime XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime speaks with Selwyn and Genna makes demands of the wedding to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next few will contain some "quieter" chapters and some time jumps (including Braime wedding) before we get to Daenerys and ultimately the dead. Hopefully nobody minds the pace slow down for a bit before it kicks up again.

Jaime had never felt so small as he sat opposite Selwyn Tarth at a small corner table in Selwyn’s assigned chambers. The older lord had arrived that morning, and Jaime immediately sought him out. Shifting in his seat, Jaime squirmed under Selwyn’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, but can you say that again?” Selwyn’s brows knitted in confusion.

“The bit about the new vows? Well… King Jon has decided that…”

Waving a hand at Jaime, Selwyn cut him off. “No, no. I understand all that. I think the changes will make for a vastly improved Kingsguard compared to what Robert and Joffrey had. Some of those men… well, it would not be appropriate to share such opinions. I ask you to restate the  _ other _ part…”

Jaime felt his palms begin to sweat. In fairness to Selwyn, Jaime had muttered the last bit. Nothing had frightened Jaime more than the potential rejection of his request.

“I would like to marry your daughter.”

Selwyn leaned back and sucked in a sharp breath. His face was impossible to read as he glanced out over the balcony and exhaled forcefully. Ever so slightly, the older lord’s lips moved as though he was forming thoughts on his tongue, but the words were faint; too faint to hear.

Panic began to set in as Jaime waited for an answer that didn’t appear soon to come. “I know that I’m probably not what you envisioned for her. There is the Aerys matter of course… and the less than sound choice in a bedmate for nearly twenty years… but I think that I can make her happy.”

“What?”

_ Fuck. Am I mumbling? _

“Happy. I think that I can make her happy.” Jaime repeated louder, though with more of a question in his voice.

Selwyn looked at Jaime as though he spoke in a foreign tongue. The space felt far too small, or perhaps it was Selwyn’s domineering presence that made it feel that way. Jaime felt transported back to his childhood when Tywin called him into the study for reprimand.

Jaime’s leg began to bounce nervously, and his eyes looked everywhere except at Selwyn. By the gods mercy, Selwyn found his words.

“I’m sorry, but this conversation has caught me by surprise. I suppose that I should start by saying that I can neither deny you Brienne’s hand nor grant it. After the third failed betrothal, she stated an outright refusal to honor any match I made if she could best the man in a fight. I agreed, though the condition was that I could still  _ present _ options. That is where my power in all this ends. This is her decision. Her happiness to choose.”

Jaime smiled inwardly at the words.  _ I can best her in a fight… usually.  _

As if sensing his growing hope, Selwyn sought to snuff it out with his next words. “As a father however, I would contest any match she makes if I feel the man disingenuous. You’ve done more for my daughter than even I, so by that much, I should not question you. That said, I know what it is like to wed a woman when your heart longs for another. I’d rather not see that happen to my daughter. You love your sister, do you not?”

Shaking his head in refute, Jaime met Selwyn’s eyes. “No! I thought that I did once, but then I met your daughter. I’ve learned quite a lot from that chance meeting at Winterfell, but among all those lessons, I saw the truth of my  _ relationship _ with Cersei for what it was. It shouldn’t have been that way. I regret it.”

Selwyn’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. He ran a large hand down his face as though wiping away the confusion. His words were mumbled as he spoke more to himself than Jaime. “What a year indeed.”

A bittersweet smile spread across Selwyn’s face. He laughed lightly as he spoke; disbelief shining in his eyes. “I can’t believe I tried to wed her off to a bloody knight older than me. Now I have a knight and heir to a Great House asking for her hand.” Selwyn snorted before continuing; his voice slightly pained.

“She would be safer with no one else, and I cannot deny it is a far more prosperous of a match than I could have made her. Will you be leaving the Kingsguard or waiting until your first term is up? I admit, I’d like to spend some time with her before she sets off for Casterly Rock.”

Jaime’s brows rose at the question. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise about Brienne’s looming knighting and offer to join the Kingsguard. Instead, he concentrated on himself.

“Actually, I’ve asked the king to strip me of my lands. The Rock will pass to my brother, Tyrion.”

Selwyn’s eyes went wide at the words. “What? Why!? Where are you to live? You plan to serve for life then?”

“I’ve not much considered how many terms in truth, but Brienne is your heir. I thought it would be better if we lived on Tarth when the time comes. We’ll have access to the West’s resources of course…”

Abruptly, Selwyn reached over and tugged Jaime to his chest, effectively cutting him off. The embrace was suffocating as Selwyn laughed loudly. “I should have been kinder to your father some time ago. I thought he only wanted the match to gain more power and control. This match could have been made much sooner, though I suppose he would not appreciate you living on Tarth.”

Jaime’s voice was muffled against Selwyn’s massive frame; the words came out choked from lack of air. “Is that… a yes?”

Releasing Jaime’s head, Selwyn nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. Of course. This is wonderful. Have you asked her yet? She better have said ‘yes’ or I’ll fight her myself.”

“She seemed quite agreeable.”  _ If the beddings have been any indication. _

Selwyn clapped Jaime’s shoulder and nodded enthusiastically. “Good! Well I was not prepared for all this today. Lets go find the girl. I’m quite hungry and should like to celebrate.”

With great effort, Selwyn stood and rubbed his knees as he went. “You’d think the siege was yesterday. Everything still hurts.”

Something sparked in Selwyn’s eyes as he spoke. His brows furrowed in question and he appraised Jaime. “Before the siege, the men were speaking of the wildfire explosion. I heard…  _ things _ … of Aerys plan to do the same. They say that’s why you killed the king. Is that true?”

Joining Selwyn as the older lord began walking towards the door, Jaime nodded in affirmation; his voice fatigued at the thought of it all. “Yes. The Starks have become quite vocal about it.”

Sharing the truth with Ned and Barristan had opened the floodgates. All of Westeros seemed to know the truth behind Aerys death before the siege. Jaime wasn’t certain how he felt about it. For so long, the truth had been his own; a secret to safeguard and take with him when he fell into the Stranger’s arms.

Selwyn stopped walking and grabbed Jaime’s shoulder. The expression on his face was serious. “As they should. The act was honorable, and it was presented as dishonorable. You should be celebrated for it, not hated. Let them be loud about it. They owe you that much.”

Jaime startled slightly but nodded. Having his actions validated by so many was both overwhelming and unusual. As they walked towards the hall, Genna approached from the opposite side of the long corridor.

“There you are! Jaime Lannister, I would have words with you!”

_ Oh no. _

Jaime groaned in exhaustion as Genna stormed towards them in a huff. “Where are you going, boy?”

“To eat. Is that allowed?”

Genna scowled as she approached; her hips swaying and her braid following the motion. “Well we can discuss this over lunch then. This one should be there too!” Casting an accusing finger at Selwyn, Genna joined their progress towards the hall.

“Still bossy as ever, Genna. I see not much changes.” Selwyn grumbled his greeting; the implication of prior meetings not missed by Jaime.

With a sarcastic smile, Genna nodded at Selwyn. “Ah, the recluse speaks. I recall you owe me a dance, though now I’m uncertain if I want it.”

Selwyn snickered at the words. He shrugged as though Genna’s reply mattered little. “I’ll lose no sleep over it. How is Emmon?”

“How should I know?”

Biting back a laugh, Jaime walked between the bickering pair. It was not unusual that Genna didn’t know how her husband was doing. The two were married, yet strangers in many ways. When Jaime was at the Rock two moons ago, Emmon had been dispatched to the Twins to oversee the running of the castle. As the last living Frey, it was his by right and Genna planned to see it left to their eldest living child.

Judging by Selwyn’s loud laugh, he had expected no less from Genna’s reply. “We can dance at the children’s wedding.”

“Which is precisely my issue! We have to discuss this matter immediately.” Genna huffed in annoyance as they entered the hall. Sitting at a corner table with Barristan, Brienne was absently playing with her soup as she spoke to the aged knight.

Jaime rushed away from Selwyn and Genna to take a seat beside Brienne. At his hurried arrival, Barristan rolled his eyes; his words muttered. “Here we go.”

“Princess, save me from my aunt and your father.” Leaning close, he whispered into her ear before placing a delicate kiss to her cheek. “He approves of our betrothal.”

Brienne’s eyes glanced up at the approaching pair. Taking a seat beside Barristan, Genna began scolding the Lord Commander immediately. “Ser Barristan, would it kill you to wear something more colorful?”

Jaime bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Barristan’s confused expression. “I’m wearing the Kingsguard armor. I’m a Kingsguard. What would you have me wear?”

Waving him off, Genna picked up a piece of bread and scoffed. “You sound like this one!” Gena cast an accusatory finger at Jaime before continuing. She grabbed Barristan’s chin and tilted his face towards her. “The pair of you have such  _ wonderful _ eyes, but you wear these awful, muted colors. Yours are such a lovely blue. A bit sad, but blue.”

Barristan’s face flushed slightly at the unexpected praise. It was curious to watch, and Jaime looked questioningly between the pair, but he thought better of making a jape about it.

“The Kingsguard is a pure order, so we wear pure colors.” Barristan huffed in reply before turning back to his bowl of soup.

Genna’s nose scrunched in distaste as she appraised his head. Running a hand through Barristan’s hair, she spoke disapprovingly. “You and Jaime need haircuts and a shave before the coronation. I’ll send someone to the White Sword Tower to tend to you both.”

Barristan flinched away from the touch; his eyes narrowing in offense. “Our hair is fine! Leave us be, woman! We like our muted colors and unkempt appearance. Send your man to Lord Tyrion. He has some kind of animal taking residence on his face.”

Jaime’s eyes darted across the hall to Tyrion. He was seated beside Sansa and across from Lady Catelyn, regaling them with some ridiculous tale no doubt. The women laughed loudly as Tyrion’s arms waved dramatically in the air. True to Barristan’s words, Tyrion’s face was covered in a full beard. Unlike Jaime and Barristan who tried to keep their faces clean shaven through the journey north and south, Tyrion had given up entirely.

Genna scoffed at Barristan. “So it’s your influence that’s ruined  _ my nephew _ here. He’s all disheveled and forgets his House colors.”

With a smirk, Barristan met Genna’s eyes. “He is  _ my  _ sworn brother and his Kingsguard colors suit him just fine. We have no Houses.”

Setting her sights on Brienne and Selwyn, Genna tilted her head. “Forget this old fool. Now tell me… why can’t there be a wedding at the Rock?”

Jaime stopped chewing at the question. In truth, he had not told Brienne of his aunt’s offer, or rather, demand, to have the wedding in the West. He had little desire for such a trip, and he preferred something small in King’s landing or on Tarth.

Both Tarths looked confused and glanced between each other. Selwyn extended his arms in question and met Genna’s glare. “I’ve only just heard about the betrothal! Why am I to be blamed for such things?”

“Aunt Genna, I did not raise the topic with them. I just would rather not go to Casterly Rock for the wedding.”

At Jaime’s dismissal of Genna’s preferred venue, she clutched her chest in offense. “What!? You’re to be Lord of the Rock! You must get married there.”

Barristan snickered into his soup. Only he, Brienne, and now Selwyn knew of Jaime’s request to relinquish claim of the Rock to Tyrion.

“Yes, well about that… I asked the king to make some adjustments there.”

Genna’s eyes narrowed and she leaned over the table. Speaking through gritted teeth, she stared challengingly at Jaime. “What. Adjustments. Jaime.”

Glancing around the table, Jaime saw that he would receive no aid from the others. “I’ve asked King Jon to name Tyrion as lord. He would make a far better lord than me, and I wish to live on Tarth when the time comes. Brienne is heir and future Evenstar. My place will be at her side.”

Genna’s eyes went wide. She glanced down the hall towards Tyrion as her brows furrowed in contemplation. It felt as though the entire table was holding a collective breath in anticipation of Genna’s reaction. Bracing for a fight, Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand.

_ I’ll fight her on this. By the gods, I’ll… _

“Wise choice, Jaime. Tyrion will make a fine lord. I’ll see to it that he is afforded the respect he deserves.”

The agreeable words and calm tone were unexpected. Releasing his breath, Jaime took another bite of his bread and winked at Brienne. Then Genna narrowed her gaze once more.

“I’ll have a proper wedding though! You may become Jaime Lannister of Tarth, but you’re still a Lannister! Your children will be Lannisters, and you should have a wedding befitting a Lannister.”

Rolling his eyes, Jaime buried his face in his hands. “I don’t think our nonexistent children will care about some garish affair with far too many Lannisters to fit into one bloody Sept. With how long it takes you to plan such events, I’ll be too old to even make children.”

“I do not take long to plan events!” An expression of bewilderment lined Genna’s face.

Trying to keep from laughing, Jaime raised a challenging brow. “It took you  _ two years _ to plan little Ty’s first nameday. Consider that… he wasn’t even born nor was a pregnancy announced when you began planning.”

Barristan, Brienne, and Selwyn began chuckling at the words, but Genna only grew more indignant. “Do you not recall the night of Cleos’ wedding!? That was a  _ very _ promising bedding! I was certain it would have worked out. How could I not ensure a perfect nameday celebration for my first grandchild!”

Jaime recalled the wedding vividly. It was a raucous affair, but as a Kingsguard, he did not partake in the festivities. Instead, he stood on guard behind Robert as the king flirted with the serving wenches and Cersei cast lust-filled glances throughout the night.

For his cousin’s part, Cleos and his bride, Jeyne, were quite drunk and practically fucking one another at the feast. Genna had been confident that Jeyne would fall pregnant with child, but it took a few moons after that for Ty to be conceived.

With a victorious smirk, Jaime took another bite of bread and spoke with a full mouth. “Well I for one aim to have a  _ very _ promising wedding during this lifetime, thank you. We’ll do it our way.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Genna looked to Selwyn and spoke challengingly. “And you? What do you have to say about all this?”

With a sigh, Selwyn shrugged his shoulders. “A wedding on Tarth would be lovely, but it’s the children’s day. Let them decide.”

Realizing that Selwyn would be no help, Genna set her sights on Barristan. “Come Lord Commander, order your boy here to have a proper wedding.”

In mock reflection, Barristan tipped his head to the ceiling and stroked his chin. “What  _ is _ a proper wedding for a Kingsgaurd really? I don’t recall attending one before. I wonder… do you suppose he’ll cloak her in white or crimson? I imagine white? Do you suppose...”

“You’re no help! This is not funny, and now you’re on my list  _ Selmy _ .” Genna stood in a huff and moved away from the table.

Try as he might, Jaime couldn’t suppress the laughter shaking his shoulders. “You’re on  _ the list _ . Oh, you’re truly fucked. The Stranger himself doesn’t want to be on  _ that _ list.”

The Tarths seemed amused by Barristan’s plight, but Selwyn tried to offer some reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ve been on her list for longer than Brienne has been alive. She’s not managed to kill me off yet.”

His curiosity piqued, Jaime leaned forward and looked around Brienne to question Selwyn. “How do you know my aunt?”

With a longsuffering sigh, Selwyn rubbed his forehead before speaking. “We met at a feast in King’s Landing. This of course was  _ before _ certain things happened.”

The reference to Selwyn’s illicit affair with Rhaella was clear, and the older lord hummed before continuing. “Gods, Genna was always such a flirt, even when married. It was 262 AC I believe. Your father had just become Hand, and Aerys threw a feast. Genna and Emmon attended of course. I was not yet married and opted to attend… for obvious reasons. Well your aunt had quite her fill of wine that night, but she was miffed that I hadn’t offered her a dance. I kept telling her ‘later’. All I wanted to do was find some time with Rhaella.”

It was no secret that Genna enjoyed men outside of her marriage to Emmon. They were quite young when she was married off for a political alliance. While Genna did her duty and birthed four sons to Emmon, no one knew for certain if they were truly Freys, but no one dared question her. They certainly had the Frey look, but Genna’s reputation preceded her at times.

It was one of many arguments between Tywin and Genna over the years. In her later years, Genna had mellowed out. She was busy helping Tywin at the Rock, and then leading when he became Hand to Joffrey. Even at lunch that day, a bit of the more youthful Genna came out as she touched Barristan’s hair and face.

_ Gods. Could she have picked a more chaste man to harass? _

Raising Brienne’s hand to his lips, Jaime placed a gentle kiss. “I should speak with Tyrion about the Rock. He has no idea, and I imagine he would appreciate finding out  _ before _ Jon announces it to all of court.”

Brienne nodded as Jaime stood. Unable to resist, Jaime bent down and kissed her head. “I’ll come find you after my shift.”

Stepping away from the table, Jaime approached Tyrion as his younger brother continued entertaining the Stark women with some ribald tale. The table occupants looked to Jaime on approach; all affording warm smiles as Jaime placed his hands onto Tyrion’s chair.

“Apologies ladies, I need to steal this one.”

The women looked genuinely disappointed as Jaime yanked Tyrion’s chair backwards. After a dramatic bow in goodbye, Tyrion fell into step beside Jaime. “Brother. Whatever can I do for you?”

Placing his hand on Tyrion’s shoulder, Jaime steered him towards an unoccupied room just outside the hall. “I need to speak with you about something concerning the coronation.”

Tyrion groaned in distaste as Jaime shut the door behind them. “Gods, not this. Jon and Ned have been in my ear for days about this. I told them that we simply don’t have much coin after Cersei depleted the bank to hire the Golden Company. We can however…”

“Tyrion.” Jaime cut his brother off and guided him to a chair. “I don’t give two shits about the day’s events or how many bloody pies you can afford to bring in.”

The words caused Tyrion to raise a row. Putting up a defensive hand, Tyrion nodded slowly. “Alright. What is it then?”

“Given the new Kingsguard vows, I’ve asked King Jon to strip me of my lands.”

Tyrion’s eyes went wide at the words. He began to protest, but Jaime cut him off once more. “It’s yours, Tyrion. It’s yours, just as it always should have been.”

A slight mist coated Tyrion’s eyes as he looked away. “Jaime, I never expected you to honor words spoken at an encampment when we were desperate to end the war peacefully. Father would never want me running his Keep.”

“Father is dead, and as Genna said, he has one  _ true _ son. I’ve never been the man he wanted me to be. Bloody embarrassing really, but you read before me. You understand the kingdom’s strengths and weaknesses better than anyone. You’re smart and you understand politics. You know all the vassals like they were your own kin. You know the other kingdoms and their wants to sway them to your cause. Hells, you even convinced  _ Lysa Tully _ of all people to ally with us! The woman is unstable at best.”

Jaime sighed and looked fondly at Tyrion before continuing. “Father thought to have earned respect from the vassals and the other kingdoms, but they only ever feared him. You can make the West respectable again. I know no one more capable of returning our kingdom to greatness than you.”

Tyrion lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Jaime. “You’re the only one who ever believed in me. The first person to  _ see _ me.”

“Aunt Genna believes in you. She supports my decision and she’ll ensure the West respects you. I’ll ensure it too, and so will Addam.”

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Tyrion smirked and spoke teasingly. “All that work on the bloody sewers… now I can just open the front door to my lady friends.”

Tyrion took a deep breath and dropped any mirth from his face and tone. “I’ll make you proud, Jaime. You, and Genna, and in memory of our mother.”


	51. Brienne XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne attends Jon's coronation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some NSFW content ahead.

“Come in.” Jon’s voice called out from the other side of the door as Brienne stood in the hallway.

Stepping inside, Brienne smiled widely as their eyes met. Jon was dressed in black breeches and a black jerkin over a red tunic. Both Ned and Catelyn thought it best to play into his Targaryen roots for the occasion, but Lady Stark had embroidered a direwolf over his heart.

“Well you look the part.” Brienne nodded approvingly as she closed the door behind her.

Stepping inside, she noticed then how nervous Jon looked. The young man she trained with at Winterfell over a year ago had his life turned upside down. He went from the bastard of a Great House, to the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne.

An uneasy smile lined Jon’s face. “I don’t know that I’ll be very good at this.”

“Well you can’t do much worse than the last four sovereigns.” Brienne huffed a small laugh, though she did feel badly speaking ill of Jaime’s kin. The words did the trick however as Jon snorted in reply.

“Yes, thank you for the encouragement,  _ aunt _ .”

Over the past week, the words ‘nephew’ and ‘aunt’ had flown back and forth teasingly. Neither were pleased with the role they were thrust into, but both had each other to lean on.

“Of course,  _ nephew _ . Though don’t allow yourself to become too complacent. Another Targaryen could pop up at any moment.”

Both shared a laugh, but it was Jon who voiced Brienne’s every waking thought for the moons prior to his own arrival in the city. “Gods. What a blessing that would be.”

Taking a step closer, Brienne spoke with the utmost sincerity. “Just know that you’re not alone. I understand how overwhelming it all must feel, but I do believe that Lord Stark had your best interest at heart when he withheld the truth. Were it not for Old Nan yammering on, I’m not certain my father would have shared the truth of my lineage either.”

It was a bond Brienne had never imagined sharing with another. The need for secrecy over bloodlines had been imperative, though now, she and Jon were free to be themselves. No one would come for their heads with the truth out, though some might come for their heads for other reasons.

With a quiet sigh, Jon met Brienne’s eyes. “I’m glad that I can call you kin. Now lets hope your  _ betrothed _ is as incredible a Kingsguard as everyone claims, or you’ll be taking the crown soon enough.”

At the mention of Jaime, Brienne felt her cheeks heat. Over the past week, Jaime had surprised Brienne in many ways. It started with little things; flowers upon greeting, an offered arm during walks around the gardens, and other courtly gestures. Brienne had never expected to be courted by anyone. Despite the betrothal, Jaime insisted on  _ earning _ the title.

_ Earning. As though he hasn’t already saved my life multiple times and treated me as though I am something precious and desirable. _

Still, the thought of being courted by her betrothed amused Brienne.

_Isn’t that meant to happen before the betrothal. Surely it is meant to happen before the bedding. I_ _suppose neither of us have truly followed convention._

Seeing the color fill Brienne’s cheeks, Jon raised a teasing brow. “Gods. The mere thought of him will make you swoon, won’t it?”

Brienne scoffed and tried to downplay her uncontrollable blush at the mere reference to Jaime. “I think myself as capable of swooning as I am of curtseying. And besides… I was only considering the joy of knocking him into the dirt in the training yards.”

_ Bit of a lie. I’ve not been able to accomplish such a feat yet. _

Jon only laughed and shook his head. It was nice to see a youthful mirth in his eyes. Like herself, Jon could be self-conscious and uncomfortable at court. He cared for titles as little as Brienne did, and he had no desire for the attention the day was bound to bestow upon him.

Often, there was a slight brooding in Jon’s eyes and Brienne imagined it must have been difficult being raised in a home where he was often the outcast. She understood that feeling as well.

With a heavy sigh, Jon pursed his lips and extended an arm. “Shall we get this over with? I’d prefer to return to said yards than sit in the throne room.”

Brienne smiled and took Jon’s offered arm. Their sparring circle had grown substantially in recent weeks. At night, Barristan, Jaime, Brienne, Loras, Brynden, Addam, Endrew, and, in the last week, Jon, had all taken to the yards. They always managed to attract crowds and on rare occasions, Jaime could needle Ned enough to the point where the Stark patriarch joined in.

As always, Barristan and Jaime were the last men standing. Their eyes glistened with true challenge that only they could afford each other. They truly were the greatest swordsman known to Brienne. She enjoyed watching them fight, but more so, she enjoyed the humbling Jaime received from Barristan’s blade.

Over the past week, Jaime took full advantage of Jon’s elevated status. With guard duty now concentrated on Jon instead of Brienne, Jaime had ample opportunity to slip into her room at night. Biting her lip, Brienne recalled the night prior.

_ Last night _

Brienne had left the door unlocked as she had for the last few days. The familiar turn of the door handle signaled Jaime’s arrival as he slipped into the room. The flickering flames in the fireplace cast long shadows on the wall and signaled Jaime’s approach.

The mattress shifted under Jaime’s weight, and Brienne rolled to greet him. They wasted no time ridding each other of the obstructive layers of clothing between them. Jaime’s body pressed warm and heavy against hers as he positioned himself between her legs. 

“You’re much more enjoyable to guard than Jon, though he distracts me far less.” Jaime’s words were whispered into Brienne’s ear as his lips danced along her skin. Their breathing shallowed as a deep want pooled in their bodies. The sensation of Jaime’s hard cock rubbing against her hip was as much a tease as his lips at her neck.

Jaime’s fingers danced down her side and to her core. Exploratory fingers pushed between her folds, and when Jaime found her wet and wanting, he groaned against her neck. His fingers pushed deeper as his thumb pushed hard against her nub.

Teasing him in turn, Brienne reached for Jaime’s cock. Her thumb brushed over the head and took with it the droplet of seed at the tip. In response, Jaime’s body shuddered. Quickly removing his fingers, Jaime took himself in hand and began to rub her most sensitive areas with himself.

Whether he meant to tease her or prolong the pleasure was unclear to Brienne, but his own impatience got the better of him. Pushing into her folds, Jaime sighed contentedly. They stilled for a moment and enjoyed the unity before either began to move again.

At first, Jaime moved slowly. He remained fully sheathed and rocked against her body. The movement sent jolts of pleasure to every extremity. Her legs wrapped tightly around Jaime’s body as he rocked them slowly.

Being with Jaime intimately made Brienne forget all reason. She never thought twice about Jaime spilling inside her, but he was certain to retrieve moon tea after. They had each expressed desire for children, but first they wanted to marry.

As hands and lips explored their counterpart’s body, Brienne felt pleasure building where their bodies were joined. Jaime shifted slightly; the new angle putting an exquisite pressure on  _ that _ spot which only Jaime seemed capable of finding.

With her heels pressed firmly against Jaime’s ass, Brienne felt her walls tighten as she found release. Her inner walls contracted and Brienne felt Jaime fill her with his seed; his own body trembling through his release.

They lay panting in one another’s arms. Both longed for the day when they could fall asleep together, but for tonight, Jaime would need to sneak out again.

With his softening cock still inside her, Jaime pressed delicate kisses along Brienne’s jaw as her fingers brushed gently through his hair. The top of Jaime’s hair was slightly longer than the sides, but he had cut it just days ago per Genna’s insistence. His face was clean shaven and felt incredible as their cheeks pressed close. Jaime settled his weight on top of Brienne as they both dozed off. She didn’t know how long they were asleep for, but Jaime roused her with tender kisses to her lips.

“I have to go. The sun will be up soon.”

Now as Brienne and Jon entered the throne room, she broke to the left as he ascended the steps to the throne. The Septon stood at the top with a crown in hand. Brienne smiled proudly at Jon. He would make an incredible king, and she was pleased to see him looking more confident after the ceremony ended. Formally, he would be known as Aegon Targaryen, but to his friends and family, he would remain Jon.

As expected, Jon made several announcements before the assembled crowd after he was crowned. He named the Lord Paramounts and small council members. A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s lips as she looked to Tyrion who stood tall and proud beside his aunt.

_ He’ll make a sound lord and warden. Jaime did this for Tyrion… and for me. He’ll bring us to Tarth someday. _

At the thought of her father, Brienne glanced at Selwyn. While he never sought power or authority, he was a man who would do right by the Stormlands. The other vassals respected him and were pleased with his appointment as Lord Paramount. Afterwards, Jon legitimized Gendry; the new Lord of Storm’s End.

To conclude, Jon announced the changes to the Kingsguard. They were to be an elite group of knights sworn to protect the real first, and the king second. The crowd seemed pleasantly surprised at the proclaimed changes. Brienne’s eyes darted to Jaime who stood beside Loras at the base of the stairs. When their eyes met, a soft smile stretched across his face. Brienne thought the announcements finished, but then Jon turned to Barristan Selmy who stood to the king’s left.

“Before we swear in the Kingsguard with revised vows, we have a knighting to see to.”

Brienne stood unassumingly at her father’s side. Inwardly, she wondered at who was to be knighted. Given the siege that took place only two moons prior, Brienne surmised it must be someone who fought valiantly to help win the crown for Jon.

Jon and Ser Barristan stepped forward and descended the steps from the Iron Throne. The aged knight unsheathed his sword as a smile spread across his face.

“Princess Brienne Tarth.” Barristan’s head slowly turned towards her as he spoke. A fond smile stretched across his face when Barristan’s eyes fell on her.

_ Me? Am I supposed to name the deserving man? Gods, I always do this. I forget something important and ruin it. Seven help me. _

Leaning into her father, Brienne whispered. “I don’t remember if I’m supposed to name someone from the siege. Do you know?”

Selwyn’s chest shook with laughter. “He means to knight  _ you _ , Brienne. Go on child. The whole of court is waiting.”

Brienne’s jaw hung open slightly and her eyes landed once more on Barristan. He inclined his head to the empty space before him and Jon; his sword indicating the direction she was to move. From over Barristan’s shoulder, Brienne saw Jaime standing tall and proud. His chest puffed out as though the honor was his.

As though outside her own body, Brienne’s feet slowly shuffled forward.

_ This is a dream. Gods, please don’t let me awake before this moment ends. _

Lost in a trance, Brienne almost forgot the large crowd assembled. She despised being the center of attention, but as this was  _ definitely _ a dream, and as such, she was able to ignore the crowd.

_ I’m still asleep. Has Jaime not left my bed yet? Gods, I should wake him up before someone notices. No, that won’t do. That means I need to wake up. _

As Brienne stood before Barristan, he smiled widely and spoke loudly for all to hear. “Aside from winning the melee here in King’s Landing against experienced knights, Princess Brienne Tarth led a contingent of twenty to reclaim Winterfell from rebels of House Greyjoy. After doing so, she saved Lord Rickon Stark by sacrificing herself when House Bolton betrayed their liege lord, Lord Eddard Stark, and took the unmanned holding. She single handedly slew more men that day than many knights do in a lifetime. During the battle here in King’s Landing, she led a contingent through the tunnels to aid our cause. In doing so, she saved the life of Ser Jaime Lannister when he was surrounded by opposing Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks. For her valor and incredible skill, it is only fitting that she is named the first female knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Kneel, Princess Brienne.”

Wonder-filled murmurs broke out at Barristan’s words. Were she not so convinced it was all a dream, Brienne would have worried it was all a great jape.

_ Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. _

Brienne did as instructed, and kneeled before one of the greatest knights, with another of Barristan’s quality, her betrothed, at his back.

The room fell silent as Barristan handed his sword to Jon. The blade came to her shoulder and Jon spoke commandingly. The nervous young man from earlier that day was replaced by a king. Jon’s voice was formal and confident as he spoke the words that Brienne knew by heart; words she never dared to dream would be directed at her.

As a girl, Brienne dreamed of being the fair maiden rescued by the dashing knight. She longed to be loved and made into the Mother. When it was clear that her life was to be without requited love, Brienne grew determined to put her mannish body to good use. She would be a shield. A knight in practice, if never in name. She would guard those she loved or those unable to protect themselves.

Brienne stared up at Jon in wonder as he said the words.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocent. Arise, Brienne Tarth, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The entirety of court clapped wildly at her back, but Brienne could barely hear it over the thudding of her heart. As Brienne stood, Jon handed the blade to Barristan before pulling her into a firm embrace.

“Now I can claim to have been beaten around the yards by the first female knight in the Seven Kingdoms. My aunt and friend.”

Tears moistened Brienne’s eyes at the word. As Jon broke the embrace, Barristan stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

“I can think of no greater warrior than you to be our realm’s first female knight.”

Brienne’s heart felt as though it may explode. Returning the embrace, she smiled against the side of Barristan’s head. “Thank you. Is this… is this real?”

Stepping back, Barristan raised a brow. “As real as that pining fool over my shoulder.”

As if on cue, Jaime stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Brienne. “I daresay you’re the first knight I’ve ever been in love with. Don’t tell the others. Wouldn’t want to make them jealous.”

Brienne chuckled and held tightly to Jaime. From over his shoulder, Brienne saw Loras nod approvingly. She was happy that he was starting to find some peace in everything. The young Tyrell had been through much and deserved to find some happiness in the world.

Jon feigned at difficulty pulling Jaime from her. “Ser aunt, I have a request of you. You see, I have three incredible Kingsguards, but I need seven. I can think of no better knight to raise to their order.”

Brienne’s jaw went slack once more. She wondered if sleep was not the issue, but rather death.

_ This isn’t real. I’ve died in my sleep; wrapped lovingly in Jaime’s arms.  _

Glancing at her father, Brienned noted his nod of approval as though he knew the question that Jon had asked. Before she could reply, Jon spoke once more.

“As I said, Kingsguard will hold lands and titles. They do not have to serve for life, but they can renew their vows every seven years if they so choose. I would be honored if you would serve.”

Brienne nodded emphatically. “I would be honored to guard you… and the realm.”

Raising his voice for all to hear, Jon spoke of the Kingsguard to be sworn in. “With Ser Barristan as Lord Commander, today we will swear in Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Brienne Tarth, and Ser Brynden Tully.

From the side of the room, Brynden stepped forward. Moving away briefly, Barristan returned with two additional white cloaks to drape over Brynden’s and Brienne’s shoulders.

Standing before them, the aged knight instructed the four to stand together before Jon. They would take their vows before the court. At Jon’s side, Barristan spoke the new vows that Brienne knew he had worked on with Jon.

“Do you vow to uphold your knightly oaths, to defend the realm from harm or threat regardless of its source?”

All four answered affirmatively as Barristan continued.

“Do you vow to protect and serve your king for so long as he asks nothing of you which could bring you dishonor or require action conflicting with your knightly oaths?”

Glancing at Jaime, Brienne smiled as all four answered affirmatively.

“Do you vow to obey the honorable commands of your king, safeguard his secrets, and offer counsel when sought?”

Once more, all four answered affirmatively.

“Do you vow to serve and shield the realm and your king with all of yourself to the completion of your term, and those offered thereafter?”

With a loud affirmation, the four knights smiled proudly at their king and Lord Commander.

There were two places yet to fill, but knowing Ser Barristan, a thorough search would be conducted for the appropriate knights. With the formal ceremonies concluded, it was time for the feast.

To allow the Kingsguard to participate in the celebrations, Ned assigned senior Gold Cloaks to guard the event. It was interesting to attend a feast knowing that it was likely to be her last for at least seven years. As she observed at Renly’s wedding feast, the Kingsguard were always on duty; never guests.

Throngs of Stormlanders approached to congratulate Brienne. She tried not to roll her eyes as she knew they were only trying to curry favor with their new Lord Paramount. At her side, Selwyn stood with his chest puffed out and pride shining in his eyes.

“My daughter… the first woman knight in the kingdoms’ history. Arianne would be so proud. Rhaella too of course, but Arianne was the fighter.”

Selwyn’s arm draped over her shoulder and tugged her close. “King Jon will be well-guarded; of that I have no doubt. And that boy of yours…”

Brienne felt her face flush at the mention of Jaime. A light laugh shook Selwyn’s chest. “Gods, the pair of you. How did I not see it on Tarth? The staring the two of you do could melt the Wall.”

Days earlier and after Jaime spoke to Selwyn about his desire to wed Brienne, Selwyn had asked her about it that day. He wanted to ensure that she was happy and not merely accepting to please him.

_ ‘I know that I’ve always made you feel pressured to wed, but I want you to be happy. Will this boy do that? He certainly loves you, but it should be reciprocated.’ _

As though the fierce blush wasn’t implicating enough, her verbal confirmation of love for Jaime left Selwyn floored.

_ ‘Gods. My daughter is in a love match with Jaime Lannister. Seven help me.’ _

Every time Brienne tried to make her way toward Jaime, she was pulled in a different direction. Sansa and Arya each spent time with Brienne. The former was thrilled at Brienne’s love match with Jaime. The latter was enthralled with Brienne’s achievement in becoming the first woman knight and Kingsguard.

Then Catelyn got a hold of Brienne. She was overcome with emotion at how things had turned out for Brienne and Jaime. _ ‘I know Jon would have released him, but I couldn’t help but worry. Jon is so fixated on this threat to the north.’ _

In between streams of well-wishers, Brynden found Brienne as well. The older knight expressed his happiness at Jon’s decision to break from tradition and knight Brienne. He expressed eagerness to train with her and serve at her side. The words meant so much to Brienne. A knight the quality of Ser Brynden was something to aspire to. Between him, Ser Barristan, and Jaime, Brienne believed she may well be serving among some of the most skilled living swordsmen in the known world.

With every person who pulled her aside, Brienne’s eyes tracked to Jaime. He sat at a table with Barristan, Tyrion, Genna, Tommen, Myrcella, and Pod. Barristan sat at Jaime’s side; a casual arm draped over Jaime’s shoulders as they all exchanged laughs and stories. 

There was something endearing about the bond between Jaime and Barristan. It seemed both longed for something they never had; Jaime wanted a true father, and Barristan wanted a son. More than enjoying each other’s company, Brienne believed they needed it.

As Brienne was finally free to join the table, Rickon came running up to her. “Brienne! You’re a knight! I knew you would be! You’re amazing.”

Brienne could hardly contain the warm smile spreading across her face as she reached down to pick up Rickon. “Thank you. Would you like to come sit with us?”

Brienne pointed to the table where she was headed. When Rickon’s eyes landed on Jaime, they lit up with excitement. Brienne placed the boy on her hip and made her way over. At her approach, the table greeted them excitedly. The feeling of belonging was unlike anything that Brienne had ever hoped to achieve.

For much of Brienne’s life, she despaired that she would die alone and be quickly forgotten. More hurtful than no one remembering, was no one noticing. It was one of the thing that Brienne thought could be a benefit to becoming a soldier. If she died in battle, she wouldn’t have to live alone in a world where her father died before her. 

Over the past year, Brienne felt as though she built a family.

_ Family. _

The thought made Brienne think of Bran. He was the only one missing, and his absence haunted her daily.

_ We need to find him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very happy holidays to all. Whatever holiday you celebrate (or if you choose not to), I hope you all stay healthy and safe! I won't be posting on Christmas, but I'll be right back at it on the 26th. Thanks for reading!


	52. Brienne XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has measurements taken for multiple occasions. Barristan names the final Kingsguard members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more "quiet" chapters before a return to action. Hope everyone continues to stay happy and healthy this holiday season!

“She has boobs! Give her boobs!” Genna scolded the smith as he took Brienne’s measurements for the third time that afternoon.

The smith looked to Brienne with uncertainty on his face. When he glanced back at Genna, Brienne could hear the question in his voice. “Apologies, my lady. I’ve never fitted a woman before for Kingsguard armor. Well… for any armor really.”

“Well why not!? Do our teats not need saving? Do our ribs not run the risk of breaking on impact? My goodniece may be the first knight, but she is far from the first female warrior!”

_ Goodniece. _

The word sounded strange to hear. Brienne and Jaime had decided to wed in the Sept at the Red Keep in two moons. It was only days ago that Brienne was knighted and sworn into the Kingsguard, but she and Jaime were impatient and meant to take advantage of the new allowance for marriage in the Kingsguard.

Beside Genna, Catelyn smiled warmly at Brienne. “Will you let Sansa and I make you a dress for the wedding?”

Sansa had been half-awake during the fitting for Brienne’s Kingsguard armor, but the young girl perked up immediately at the mention of a wedding dress. “Oh, yes! Please, Brienne. We’ll make something tasteful; nothing too revealing or uncomfortable.”

The thought of disappointing them broke Brienne’s heart, but she and Jaime had discussed it. They both wished to wed in their Kingsgaurd armor. It felt fitting in a way as it was the sword that first brought them together.

“Jaime and I were planning to wed in our Kingsguard armor.”

“Oh, Seven take me now! What is it with that boy and that awful armor!?” Genna threw back her head dramatically.

The smith began to chuckle as he finished taking his final measurement. With a fleeting glance at Brienne, he winked and whispered to her. “Good luck.”

Both Stark women and Genna looked despondent. They began to plead with Brienne to reconsider, and despite Brienne’s attempt to explain, they wouldn’t hear it.

“It isn’t that I don’t wish to wear a dress, but I have very little confidence in one. I look even uglier in a dress than breeches and a tunic. With all the armor on, perhaps I won’t stand out so much.”

Catelyn moved quickly before Brienne. As she had at Winterfell so many moons ago, she cupped Brienne’s face in her hands and sighed. “Brienne, it matters little what anyone else thinks of you that day. The only opinion that matters is yours and Jaime’s. To the latter, I think he would be just as pleased whether you showed up in full armor or nothing at all. This should be what  _ you _ want.”

_ What I want is to not be ugly. I want to be able to wear pretty dresses like the other women. To feel dainty and precious; not ugly and lumbering. _

A small voice came from beside Sansa. With a warm smile, Myrcella stood and joined Catelyn. “What if you wear armor at the Sept, but a dress at the feast? It will be crowded and less attention on you, so you’ll feel more comfortable. I think you’ll look wonderful either way. Perhaps fath… Uncle Jaime… can wear his House colors at the feast too.”

Genna’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Oh, Myrcella! You wonderful girl. Yes!”

Looking to Brienne with hopeful eyes, all women stared at her expectantly. Brienne considered it for a moment. She expected to hate the idea, but strangely, it sounded lovely. A slow smile spread across her face.

Crouching down towards Myrcella, Brienne smiled. “I quite like that idea. Your  _ father _ would look quite handsome in his House colors too.”

For Myrcella’s ears only, Brienne whispered. “Don’t feel afraid to claim him among us, Myrcella. We’re family and the Starks are trustworthy.”

Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes as she smiled softly. “Thank you. I’ll be excited to claim you as my mother too.”

Pulling Myrcella close, Brienne heard the other women speaking excitedly about the dress to be made. They were all in agreement that blue was the best choice in color, and the fabric should be a thin satin on account of the temperature. Unlike bulky styles of court, they thought something tighter fitted to the body would accentuate Brienne’s long, lean form.

The women began to fuss over Brienne and take her measurements as though the smith had never been doing the same only moments ago. Brienne bit back a smile at their enthusiasm. Even if she would never feel beautiful in a dress, seeing them all so happy and excited made the effort worth it.

For what felt an eternity, the women fussed over details of the dress to be designed. As if an answer to her prayers, a knock came at the door. The women grumbled as though disrupted from the most pressing matter in the world. When Catelyn answered the door, Brienne could tell by the scowl on her face that aid had arrived in the form of Jaime.

Pushing into the room, Jaime smirked at Brienne. “Time to go, princess. We have Kingsguard duties to attend to.”

_ Thank the gods. _

With a wide smile, Brienne put on her jerkin and hurried towards the door. The women began to protest, but Jaime waved them off. “Goodbye ladies. Have fun doing whatever it is you do in here. Eating, planning, plotting…”

Pulling the door shut behind them, Jaime raised on his toes and pressed a kiss to Brienne’s lips. “You owe me.”

Brienne hummed in reply as they began to walk down the hallway. Jaime’s hand slipped into hers, guiding Brienne towards the White Sword Tower.

“How did you know I was trapped?”

Chuckling lightly, Jaime raised a knowing brow. “The smith came for Ser Brynden’s measurements and said he had taken an earful from my aunt and the Stark women. I didn’t imagine they’d be leaving anytime soon.”

_ No, I imagine they’d have kept me there all day. _

“So about the wedding, they’ve made some  _ adjustments _ .”

With a dramatic groan, Jaime leaned into Brienne’s side as though her bulk was necessary to keep him upright. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”

“Actually, it was Myrcella’s idea. I think it is quite nice.”

At the mention of Myrcella, Jaime straightened. His expression betrayed his curiosity as Brienne explained the attire for the Sept and later the feast. The idea rolled around in his head before he gave his opinion.

“And you’d like that?”

The thought of being in a dress for all to see was not something that Brienne  _ liked _ , though feeling like a woman on her wedding day was something she wanted. If the room was only occupied by her and Jaime, she would love the idea. The presence of prying eyes and the sound of questioning whispers put a damper on the vision, however.

Brienne sighed heavily; her eyes glazing over slightly as she considered all that could be if she was born  _ more _ . More beautiful. More dainty. More womanly. 

“I never disliked dresses. In truth, I always longed to wear them. Unfortunately, dresses do not like me. Myrcella’s idea is a fair compromise however, and hopefully everyone will be too busy enjoying the feast to  _ notice _ .”

“Lions do not…”

Brienne rolled her eyes before cutting him off. “Yes, yes. Concern themselves with the opinion of sheep.”

Nudging Brienne with his shoulder, Jaime raised a brow. “Well now you’ll be a lioness, so you should start considering the advice. I quite liked you in the dress at Renly’s feast. I’d like you better in nothing at all.”

Brienne’s cheeks flamed at the words. She glanced around to ensure no one had heard which only served to amuse Jaime. Chuckling at her side, Jaime pulled her along further. They stepped outside and Brienne’s brows furrowed as Jaime tugged her in the direction of the Tower of the Hand.

“Where are we going?”

Humming in question, Jaime quickly realized he hadn’t offered context for their unexpected path. “Oh! I have to return something to Ned. Then Ser Barristan wants to meet with us.”

Tapping his hip in demonstration, Brienne noticed that he had two swords strapped to his waist. One of the swords she recognized as half of Ice that Jaime had been wielding. The other sword had to be its twin based on the extravagant hilt.

As though it required confirming, Jaime spoke in disgust. “Joffrey named it ‘Widow’s Wail’. Miserable shit.”

When at last they reached Ned’s study, Jaime knocked loudly and leaned against the door haphazardly. A low voice called out from the other side, bidding them enter.

As Ned’s eyes rose to meet them, his brows furrowed. “Ser Jaime. Princess.”

Unstrapping the swords from his hip, Jaime offered no explanation. “Perhaps that new Baratheon can figure this out. They say he’s quite skilled. I don’t know the man my father hired to destroy your sword.”

Jaime placed the swords on the table with a thud. The pained expression on Ned’s face made Brienne’s heart sink. She recalled the sword at his hip during her time at Winterfell. It was such a shame that it had been destroyed by Tywin.

Ned’s hand ran over the hilts; his lips downturn in displeasure. “Not now.”

Jaime snorted at the words. “Well I wasn’t suggesting you set to work this moment. He’ll likely need to do extensive research. Perhaps Tyrion can find some record of the man my father used.”

“No, I mean that the swords will stay like this for now. Perhaps for seven years.”

Ned stood from the desk and walked around. Grabbing both swords, he shoved them into Jaime’s chest. “You and Princess Brienne are to guard my nephew. It’s only fitting you protect him with half of Ice each. When your terms are done, I’ll see if Gendry can mend this. That should give him ample time to investigate the matter.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. She had never held a Valyrian steel blade before, but she knew them to be of the greatest quality. Extending his left hand towards Brienne, Jaime offered her the larger of the two; the sword he had been carrying for moons now.

“This one is heavier; better for your style. Plus, it will give me greater advantage in the yards when you can’t keep up.” A smirk stretched across Jaime’s face as he spoke.

Taking the sword, Brienne inspected it closely as she unsheathed the blade. “It’s exquisite Lord Stark. I’d be honored to defend King Jon with this while serving him.”

Ned circled back around his desk. His fingers danced over the wooden surface as he considered something. “Arya and Sansa have decided to stay in the city when Catelyn returns home with Rickon, Robb, and Talisa. When Sansa found out that Myrcella is staying, I believe she hoped to do the same. They seem… close.”

Jaime snorted at the words and bit back a laugh. “Lady Sansa has excellent taste.”

An unimpressed brow greeted Jaime as Ned glanced up from his desk. “I also think she wishes to meet young lords at court. The girls seem of similar interest in that regard.”

Now it was Brienne’s turn to bite back a laugh as Jaime’s face paled. “Myrcella is only one-and ten! She’ll certainly not be meeting any boys now!”

“Tell me about it! Sansa is only four-and-ten!” Ned huffed in irritation. The men stewed over the plan that had evidently been approved by Catelyn and Genna. Of course, Myrcella and Tommen had already planned to stay under Tyrion’s care. Genna brought in help to oversee the children while Tyrion was in small court or his study performing his role.

With a heavy sigh, Ned shook his head. “As for Arya, I think she is a bit fixated on training. Now that Ser Brienne has broken tradition and become a knight, she wants as much for herself. She is hoping that she could participate in the training you afford Pod.”

Ned’s eyes were a question as he looked to Brienne. With a wide smile, Brienne nodded. “I’d be happy to. I’m certain that Jaime will help too.”

Brienne looked expectantly at Jaime who feigned inconvenience. “I suppose. She’ll need a proper sword. I’ll not train her with that absurd sewing needle.”

Ignoring Jaime’s comment, Ned thanked them for the aid. They were soon back on their way towards the White Sword Tower. Jaime complained the entire way about Myrcella’s supposed interest in meeting young lords at court.

“Perhaps you should talk to her, Jaime. Besides, I think she wishes to spend more time with you regardless of her  _ other _ interests.”

They entered the Lord Commander’s office where Barristan sat pouring over paperwork. At their entry, he waved them in and placed down the missive in his hand. Loras and Brynden were on duty guarding Jon that afternoon. Earlier that day before her meeting with the smith and women, Brienne had been on duty with Barristan. The lack of additional Kingsguard made scheduling difficult for the Lord Commander.

“I’ve thought a great deal about it, and I believe I’ve the final two knights for the Kingsguard, though I’m a bit uncertain about one. The idea was Ser Loras’, and based on what he shared, I’m inclined to agree. I sought out Lady Sansa for additional insight on the matter.”

Brienne took a seat and listened curiously as Barristan spoke. “Were it not for Sandor Clegane, Lady Sansa believes she might not have survived her time at the Keep. He saved her once when an angry mob attacked and men tried to force themselves on her.”

At the words, Bienne stiffened. The growing realization of all that Sansa endured was setting in the more time she spent with the young woman. With a heavy sigh, Barristan continued.

“I observed the man protect her from Ser Meryn more than once. According to Ser Loras, the Hound tried to protect Margaery from Cersei. Loras was still in the cells and yet to be raised to the Kingsgaurd, but Margaery told him during one of her visits that the Hound was kind and tried to aid her. Most of my exposure to him was when he was assigned to guard Joffrey. He was always very quiet and brooding, but with a blade in hand, he is vicious. A great fighter.”

Jaime sighed at Brienne’s side. “He’s unconventional, but I’ve never had an issue with him. His brother was a miserable shit, but the Hound is decent despite being rather vulgar. He’s not a knight though. He refuses it.”

With a shrug, Barristan leaned back and scratched at his chin. “That can be remedied easily enough. After he left the city following the wildfire explosion, he joined the Westerlands army during the siege. They say he fought well and has since returned to Clegane’s Keep. Genna offered to summon him.”

Brienne glanced between the men. “I’ve only seen Sandor once at Winterfell when he sparred with the Kingsguard. He seemed impressive.”

Jaime snorted and nodded emphatically. “He was much more skilled than most of Robert’s Kingsguard.”

Taking in the words, Barristan hummed. “I think we should speak with him. He strikes me as someone who would be a most impressive guard and his morals seem in the right place. I more mean to ensure he has the right mentality for it. We need honorable and loyal people.”

Brienne recalled an image of the Hound from Winterfell. He was massive and brooding, but quiet and skilled.

_ Perhaps he is like me. Misunderstood and judged harshly by his intimidating size.  _

A momentary silence hung over the room as Barristan leaned back and appraised them. “The other candidate is much easier to name. Ser Balon Swann is highly regarded in the Stormlands. An honorable man and very skilled knight. I plan to speak with him as well. King Jon has asked me to take supper with him this evening to discuss treating with the Wildlings. I’ve only the pair of you to replace Loras and Brynden when their shift ends. Can I trust you to be on your best behavior?”

The implication that she could not be trusted because of her relationship with Jaime unnerved Brienne. Sitting up straight, Brienne spoke urgently and with the utmost sincerity. “Of course, Ser Barristan. I would never act with negligence while on duty.”

Barristan chuckled and shook his head. “The question was directed at your  _ betrothed _ . I have no worries about  _ your _ behavior.”

The jest in Jaime’s tone was apparent when he spoke next. “Of course! How could I miss a threat if I’m staring at Brienne? If she looks startled or springs into action, I’ll know to unsheathe my sword... the  _ slightly _ larger one that is. I’ll keep the other in my breeches.”


	53. Jaime XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two moons later, the wedding day arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some NSFW content ahead  
> This is part 1 of the wedding. Part 2 is a Catelyn POV which will go up tomorrow as part of a double posting day.

“Do you miss her?”

Jaime startled at the question. Sitting beside Jaime in the gardens, Myrcella stared at him questioningly. Of course, there was no need to clarify who ‘her’ was.

With a heavy sigh, Jaime leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a bit complicated. I miss my sister; the girl I grew up with. There was a time in our lives when not everything between us was inappropriate. We had fun together when we were little, but the woman she became proved difficult to love.”

“Like grandfather?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the question. “What do you mean?”

Myrcella shrugged and glanced towards the fountain at the center of the garden. “Mother seemed uneasy around him. Not afraid, but conflicted. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if she loved him or hated him, but I knew she wanted to please him; to win his favor. Sometimes when I saw you with mother, it felt like that.”

Jaime hummed as Myrcella’s words rolled around his head. It shocked him how perceptive Myrcella could be at such a young age. In a way, Myrcella reminded Jaime of Tyrion. His younger brother could always read him and other people well. 

“Your grandfather wanted things done his way. His idea of negotiating was allowing a brief pause for agreement to his terms. Loving him was difficult, because he didn’t see us. Your mother was difficult to love because she…” _Only loved herself._

Thinking better of the comment, Jaime cut himself off and looked to Myrcella. “It’s best to remember the good parts of her. She did love you, even if she struggled to show it. She’d have done anything to protect you.”

“No she wouldn’t. Mother never protected Tommen from Joffrey. I had to.”

Jaime’s heart broke at Myrcella’s words. He hated that Cersei’s favoritism of Joffrey was apparent to Myrcella.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more for you and Tommen when you were younger. If Robert realized who I truly was to you, he’d have killed all of you, and I couldn’t risk that.”

Offering a sad smile, Myrcella nodded. There was a deep understanding in her eyes when she looked to Jaime. “I know. You’re here now, though. You saved us before anything bad could happen. I wonder sometimes if mother would have cared if we were in the Dragonpit that day. Would she have noticed? I know Tommen would have wanted to go. He was quite fond of Queen Margaery even though he didn’t care for such gruesome events as a Trial by Combat.”

Jaime draped an arm over Myrcella. “You can’t think about ‘what ifs’; it will only drive you mad. I have spent far too much time thinking what would happen if I hadn’t met Brienne. Every imagined outcome seems awful; a depressing exercise in self torture. Don’t think about those things.”

A wide smile spread across Myrcella’s face. As the sunlight caught her eyes, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief at the youthful sparkle he saw. “I like Brienne.”

Biting back a laugh, Jaime shrugged and feigned indifference. “I suppose I like her too.”

A fit of giggles shook Myrcella’s shoulders. When she spoke again, her teasing tone reminded Jaime so much of Tyrion. “She endures you well enough.”

“Spending a lot of time with your uncle I see.”

Myrcella’s cheeks pinked with delight and she nodded empathically. “Uncle Tyrion says that a lot; that Ser Brienne _endures_ you. Uncle Tyrion likes her a lot too.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime nodded in agreement. “Everyone seems to.”

“Are you excited for the wedding tomorrow?”

The mention of the wedding made Jaime’s heart quicken. Two moons had passed since Jaime asked for Brienne’s hand. Two _very_ long moons. Had it been his decision, they would have been married for two moons already.

Fortunately, they had been kept busy with their Kingsguard duties. Jon had treated with Mance Rayder and awarded the Free Folk the Dreadfort to settle in. He only asked for their loyalty to House Stark. They didn’t need to bend the knee; only respect the laws of the North and the Seven Kingdoms.

As a show of good faith, Mance had his men help rebuild Winterfell and prepare the lands for winter. They brought northern ways of tending to fields in the harshest conditions, and gave commitment in the war with the dead to come.

In the future when winter would pass and the dead were defeated, Mance’s people would return north of the Wall. Southern life did not suit them, and they sought only temporary protection. Whenever that day came, the Dreadfort would pass to Rickon since Robb would inherit Winterfell.

Mance also offered to send search parties for Bran Stark. The young boy had not been seen since Theon claimed Winterfell. It was Brienne’s greatest worry, and she wanted nothing more than to journey north and find him, but she had a duty to King Jon now.

Turning back to Myrcella, Jaime smiled widely and answered her initial question. “To say that I am excited to marry Brienne is an understatement. Just don’t go spending too much time with any young lords at the feast. They’re all miserable shits.”

Rolling her eyes, Myrcella groaned in reply. A subtle twitch at the corner of her lips let Jaime know that she was more amused by his comment than irritated. Sincerity laced her tone as she smiled warmly at Jaime.

“I’m happy Brienne is to be part of our family, just as… I’m happy you’re my father.”

The words startled Jaime. A wave of emotions crashed into him as he looked down at Myrcella. Pulling her into a tight embrace, Jaime spoke softly and kissed the top of her head. 

“I want to regret my relationship with Cersei, but then I wouldn’t have you and Tommen. I’m glad you both came of it. A bit of light from the darkness of it all.”

The next day, Jaime stood at the window in his room. He stared out at the city in the distance, but his mind was consumed with all things Brienne. 

For moons, Jaime had dreamed of this day. Soon he would have someone to call his own. He and Brienne would share a life, and he would never again have to hide his love from the world. They could claim each other and be proud of any children that may someday come from their love.

Barristan entered Jaime’s room dressed in his Kingsguard armor. “I wonder, who will cloak who today? I daresay, I’ve never seen two knights donning the white cloak exchange them in a Sept.”

Laughter shook Jaime’s shoulders as he met Barristan’s eyes. “I hope she exchanges cloaks with the correct Kingsguard. I don’t much care to find The Hound in our bed on the morrow.”

Barristan pulled Jaime into a firm hug. Their breastplates crashed together as he patted Jaime’s back. “Of course, you’re to be the first. The first Kingsguard to wed. The first Kingsguard to wed _another_ Kingsguard.”

Breaking the embrace, Barristan nodded at Jaime. “It’s your way it seems. The first to break your vows to save a realm. The first to disobey the crown for justice and to protect our princess. The first to remind a Lord Commander what a true knight is. I’m very proud of you. I know they would be proud too. Ser Arthur. Ser Gerold. Even the great knights lifetimes before you such as Ser Duncan, though he’d probably wish you would have waited until the wedding to bed his great-granddaughter.”

Barristan raised a knowing brow; an unimpressed hum pushing past his lips. At the words, Jaime recalled the awkward encounter with Ser Barristan outside Brienne’s chambers a moon prior. Jaime had fallen asleep after they made love, and Barristan saw Jaime emerge from the room at an inappropriate hour after returning from his overnight shift.

Despite the minor reprimand, Jaime’s vision was blurred by tears at Barristan’s words. All he had ever dreamed of was the respect from his fellow knights; particularly those named by Ser Barristan. With a warm hand to Jaime’s cheek, Barristan smiled warmly. “Come along. Let’s get you to your sworn… sister? I’m honestly not certain what to call her.”

“Princess.” Jaime smiled as he spoke the word. To him, Brienne would always be _his_ princess. It mattered little what the rest of the kingdoms called her. Brienne. Ser. Lady. Evenstar. For Jaime, just princess.

Jaime and Barristan walked side by side from the room; their white cloaks flowing at their backs. The day was warm with few clouds in the sky, and Jaime was eager to get to the Sept to say his vows. Unlike other vows he had taken, these he would never break.

The Sept was filled to capacity as Jaime entered. It seemed as though all the kingdoms had arrived to see the marriage between the two Kingsguard. At the front of the Sept on the right side, Jaime saw his kin standing tall and proud. Genna, Tyrion, Myrcella, and Tommen had wide smiles on their faces as Jaime moved to the front. Even Kevan was in attendance.

Kevan was pardoned by Jon for killing Cersei and he had been acting as Castellan in Genna’s absence. The man never smiled much to begin with, but now the scowl seemed permanently etched on his face. Near Jaime’s kin and the rest of House Lannister, Addam and Pod stood together and smiled widely.

When they reached the front of the Sept, Barristan stepped to the left. He stood in the front row beside the rest of Jaime’s sworn brothers and the king. Unlike Robert’s Kingsguard, these brothers Jaime felt proud to serve beside; Barristan, Brynden, Loras, Balon, and, the newly knighted Sandor Clegane. 

In the row behind the Kingsguard, House Stark had gathered in full. For all their smiles, it was Ned who stood the tallest and proudest. Beside Ned, Rickon clapped excitedly for his _second_ favorite Kingsgaurd. 

Then the doors to the Sept opened and Jaime felt the air leave his lungs. Brienne was in her Kingsguard armor, but she still looked as soft as he had ever seen her. Her shoulder length hair was braided delicately and she wore Rhaella’s necklace which fell over her breastplate. The golden armor shone brightly and made her blue eyes stand out even more than usual.

Selwyn stood tall at her side in Tarth’s colors. As the older lord guided her forward, it took everything in Jaime not to run from his spot to retrieve Brienne himself. Instead, he waited anxiously. With each step forward, the hilt of the Valyrian sword at Brienne’s hip caught the light cascading in from the large windows of the Sept.

When at least Brienne stood before him, Jaime extended his hand as Selwyn stepped to the side. “Princess.”

Brienne laughed lightly and stood before him. She took Jaime’s hand as the Septon produced the ribbon to tie their hands together. The Septon spoke for their ears only.

“I imagine we’re skipping the cloaking part or does Ser Brienne intend to lose her white cloak for Ser Jaime’s white cloak?”

Jaime snorted at the question; his eyes sparkling as he glanced at Brienne. “I think we’ll be protecting each other in this marriage. We can skip to the ribbon.”

As their hands met, Brienne’s eyes went wide. Jaime had the gold dragon in the palm of his hand as he laid it atop hers; his fingers curling around to her palm.

With a wink, Jaime whispered. “For love.”

Brienne smiled widely in return, and despite the impropriety of it, Jaime leaned forward to kiss her. The Septon cleared his throat to express his displeasure before raising his voice towards those gathered.

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.“

The septon bound their hands together with the ribbon.

“Let it be known that Ser Brienne Tarth and Ser Jaime Lannister are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Jaime had to control himself from screaming with joy as he stared into Brienne’s eyes. His smile was reflected on her face and he again leaned in to kiss her. A firm hand to the chest and a huff of irritation from the Septon stopped his progress. With mumbled words, he reprimanded Jaime. “Patience, ser.”

In the front row, Barristan covered his face and looked to the floor in a failed attempt to hide his laughter. The septon tilted his chin up to address the congregation once more.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. You may now look upon each other and say the words.”

Speaking in unison. Jaime felt as though they may well have been the only living souls in the world. Everything that wasn’t Brienne faded away as he stared at her.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days.”

With an approving nod from the Septon, Jaime bit back a smile and composed himself. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

The kiss was as much an assault as it was passionate. Jaime dove forward and onto his toes. His lips pressed warm and firm against Brienne’s who yelped in surprise. Loud clapping and laughter from the Kingsguard reached the alter as Jaime held Brienne close.

When their lips parted, Jaime glanced at the row containing their kin. The look in his aunt’s eyes could only mean trouble.

_Gods. She’ll be counting the days to a babe._

For his part, Selwyn had tears in his eyes and a warm hand on Tommen’s head. The children looked up at Jaime and Brienne adoringly as Tyrion clapped loudly beside them.

The feast was to begin immediately, and Jaime and Brienne had been provided different attire for the event. After the Sept cleared out, Genna, Myrcella, Catelyn, and Sansa tugged Brienne towards her room in the White Sword Tower.

“What? No one is going to help me change?”

Shoving past him, the women only rolled their eyes and began chirping in Brienne’s ear about how lovely the ceremony was. A warm hand clapped Jaime on the shoulder. Turning left, he saw Barristan step to his side.

“So now I have two Lannisters to endure in this Kingsguard.”

Jaime imagined that if he smiled any wider, his jaw may well fall off. “What can I say, Ser Barristan? The talent of your Kingsguard knows no bounds.”

With a snort, the older knight shook his head. “Gods help us. I can only imagine how very Lannister you’re to look at this feast. Your aunt was beside herself with excitement dropping off the outfit earlier today.”

Jaime grimaced at the thought. His aunt was known to be a bit over the top where it concerned weddings and other formal events. He prayed to the Seven the attire was tasteful and nothing too garish; nothing too _Lannister_.

They walked side by side back towards the White Sword Tower with the rest of the Kingsguard and Jon at their backs. Similar to the feast for Jon’s coronation, Ned brought in senior officers from the Gold Cloaks to stand guard at the feast. He wanted the entire Kingsguard to enjoy the wedding of their own.

When Jaime arrived back at his room, he was pleasantly surprised at what Genna provided for the feast. Changing quickly, Jaime considered himself before leaving the room. He wore brown breeches with a red leather jerkin over a surprisingly subdued golden tunic. Jaime looked the part of a Lannister, but it wasn’t anything over the top.

Stepping into the hallway, Jaime walked towards Brienne’s room. It had been the last day she would need the room before they could openly share a bed. Of course, Jaime had spent ample nights slipping in and out of her room. It seemed that Jaime had not been so secretive about it given Barristan’s earlier words that day.

Knocking lightly, Jaime could hear the women chatting excitedly inside. The door opened quickly and Genna stood with pride in her eyes and a smile at her lips.

“May I present, Ser Brienne Lannister of Tarth.”

Stepping back from the door, Genna turned to look back at Brienne. She was standing in the middle of the room in a breathtaking gown. Jaime could hardly stop his jaw from dropping open as he drank her in.

The dress was tightly fitting through the arms, bodice, and waist, with only a slight flair below the hips to afford the room necessary to walk. The dress was a deep blue with silver adornments boasting the Tarth sigil. Around her neck was Rhaella’s pendant which rested flat on her exposed skin.

The neckline itself was deeper cut than anything Jaime would think to see Brienne in. The entire dress embellished her long, lean features. With the fit, the subtle curves at her hips and chest were well sculpted.

Swallowing thickly, Jaime had half a mind to skip the feast and spend the night bedding his wife. At his obvious satisfaction, the women clapped in delight. They moved quickly from the room to leave Jaime with Brienne.

Stepping forward, Jaime could hardly find the words to describe how incredible she looked. Instead, Jaime let his body speak for him. Jaime pulled Brienne close and placed a deep kiss to her lips. His hands wandered down her backside and it was then he realized it was open at the back.

At the recognition, Jaime’s cock twitched in delight. He could feel his breeches strain from the pressure of his growing cock as he moaned into her mouth. Backing Brienne up slowly, Jaime reached for the wall to ensure he didn’t slam her into it with his overzealous force.

Between kisses, Brienne smiled and spoke softly. “You like the dress then?”

“I love the dress, though I’m quite excited to take it off you.”

Brienne chuckled as Jaime’s lips found hers once more. Her hands and mouth formed a protest, but Jaime could hear none of it. Taking her lower lip into his mouth, Jaime’s right hand ran down Brienne’s side and cupped her ass. Releasing her lip, a small smirk formed at Jaime’s lips.

“They’ll feast downstairs, and I’ll feast up here.”

A warning look was in Brienne’s eyes, but Jaime only took that as a challenge. Dropping to his knees, Jaime lifted Brienne’s skirts and tugged down her smallclothes.

“Jaime! No! We have to get to the…”

The moment Jaime’s tongue met her folds, all protest died. Jaime lifted Brienne’s right leg over his shoulder as he pushed his tongue deeper. A low moan erupted from Brienne’s throat as her body tensed.

Jaime could feel his cock throbbing with want. As his mouth continued to caress her inner walls, Jaime reached for the laces of his breeches. A sudden appreciation for having Brienne in a dress came to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. He envisioned taking her throughout the night in darkened corners and in side rooms.

Taking himself in hand, Jaime began to stroke himself with his right as his left reached for Brienne’s sensitive nub. When Brienne’s legs began to tremble from her imminent release, Jaime stood from his knees. Brienne began to protest, but Jaime pushed his cock into her folds and began thrusting rapidly while hooking her right leg over his hip.

Their flesh slapped noisily as they panted into one another’s mouth. Brienne’s hands lowered to Jaime’s ass; his fingernails digging into his flesh. The sensation was a mix of pain and pleasure that encouraged Jaime faster. With a final thrust, Jaime grunted as he spilled deep into Brienne. Her own release followed as her inner walls milked his cock.

For a moment, neither moved. Their heart rates slowed and their breathing steadied as they stared at one another. Both were sated for the moment, but Jaime wondered for how long until he tried to drag her into a different room near the feast.

Jaime grabbed a towel from a corner table and wiped the seed dripping from Brienne’s folds. Now that they were wed, Jaime hoped she wouldn’t take moon tea for much longer, but he also understood that she wanted to prove herself in the role before having a child.

The both adjusted their clothes and stepped into the hallway. To Jaime’s horror, Genna was leaning against the opposite wall with a knowing smirk on her face.

“I told the others to go ahead; that you might need a moment to _admire_ your wife’s dress.”

Jaime felt his face flame. Clearing his throat, he forced a tight smile and raised a brow at his aunt. “I assure you, we know the way to the feast, Aunt Genna. You didn’t have to wait.”

With a low hum, Genna straightened and patted Jaime’s arm. “Of course you do, but Myrcella left her necklace in there and wanted to wear it to the feast. I thought it better that I wait to retrieve it rather than her.”


	54. Catelyn V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn takes in everything at the feast and reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little Catelyn POV for part 2 of the wedding. I plan to double post today (hopefully the next chapter will go up in a couple of hours). It’s mostly a little setup chapter for the younger matches to come later (they’re all still a bit young) 😉. None are tagged since they aren’t major pairings in this fic.

The wedding feast was one of the best Catelyn had attended in years. Music filled the hall and food was spread across the tables as far as the eye could see. While Genna did not get the grand wedding she preferred at the Rock, she had seen to it that no one questioned whether the event was held in honor of a Lannister.

Currently, Catelyn sat at a table with Ned, Barristan, Brynden, and Genna. The children were dancing alongside most of the wedding guests, and Ser Loras spun Brienne around the dance floor as Jaime danced with Myrcella. Genna beamed as she appraised the hall.

“Isn’t this lovely? House colors and sigils. Crimson and gold. Stars and moons. Much better than those sad Kingsguard colors. Come now Barristan, could you not wear a little something else for the feast? What are House Selmy’s colors?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Barristan tilted his head at Genna. “Harvest Hall uses yellow and brown on the sigil.”

Genna’s nose scrunched in reply. “Ugh. I can see why you prefer the Kingsguard colors. Why not gold instead of yellow? Brown isn’t to my taste. What about something bright? Emerald or red or purple.”

Sarcasm laced Barristan’s tone as he narrowed his eyes in mock consideration. “Well I imagine it has something to do with the colors being  _ harvest _ colors to represent  _ Harvest Hall _ . The yellow for the wheat stocks in the sigil, and brown for the soil. I’ve yet to see emerald or red or purple soil…”

“Do shut up, Selmy. You’re no fun at all.” Genna huffed and glanced back towards the dance floor. Her scowl faded as her eyes landed on Jaime and Brienne. Following her gaze, Catelyn noted the loving gaze exchanged between the newlyweds as their eyes met over the heads of their current dance partners. 

Catelyn had never seen Brienne smile so much as she did with Jaime. It still seemed unbelievable that the man who chased Brienne and Bran down the halls of Winterfell for false love, would now find himself forever chasing Brienne for true love. Knowing that Jaime would do anything to keep Brienne safe and happy sent a warmth through Catelyn.

_ She deserves a man who appreciates her as is. He won’t ask her to change and he won’t make her feel less than. Jaime puts her on a pedestal, and Brienne believed in him before anyone else. _

Turning her attention back to Genna and Barristan, Catelyn bit back a laugh at their exchange. At her side, Ned and Barristan resumed their conversation that Genna had interrupted only moments ago, though it didn’t take long for Genna to start complaining at Barristan again.

“That traitor! He owed me a dance but offers it to that trollop. Now you’ll be a good knight and rescue me from this offense, Selmy.”

Genna stood and extended her hand expectantly at Barristan. The aged knight looked up at her strangely before glancing towards the dance floor. Catelyn followed his eyeline, but she saw no one that could have given Genna offense.

“Lady Olenna is not a trollop. Selwyn will likely come here for you soon. Why did you not invite your husband to the wedding if you wished to dance?” Barristan looked back to his half-eaten cake and pushed it around with his fork.

Genna scoffed. “Why would I do that? Emmon can dance as well as he can manage a sword.”

While she had not met Emmon Frey before, Catelyn knew of him. He was known as a fretful man with a small build. It was likely he could no sooner carry Genna off to bed than he could a cat. If the man was anything like the rest of House Frey, Catelyn could imagine why Genna felt little need to call him to King’s Landing for the wedding. Emmon was still at the Twins attempting to pick up the pieces of Walder’s broken holding.

From what Tyrion shared of Genna’s marriage to Emmon, it was far from a love match. Genna had an eye for gallant knights and bold personalities. A small laugh bubbled in Catelyn as she saw Barristan  _ the Bold _ being unceremoniously pulled from his seat by Genna. 

“Stand tall, Selmy! You’re too skilled and handsome to slouch. Come, help me make Selwyn jealous of all the fun he missed when he spent the night gawking at Rhaella years ago.”

Ned had noticed the same exchange and he grumbled from Catelyn’s side. “Poor Barristan. Genna’s latest victim. She’s been hounding him for weeks now.”

Catelyn hummed as she watched the pair approach Selwyn and Olenna. The men exchanged knowing looks as Genna began jawing at Selwyn.

“Oh? What about?” Catelyn spoke the words absently as her eyes wandered to Arya. Her younger daughter was at a corner table speaking animatedly with Gendry Baratheon. The pair struck up a strange friendship over their shared interest in weaponry.

Not far from Arya, Sansa and Tyrion were laughing together as the younger Lannister regaled her with some tale not able to reach Catelyn’s ears. Young lords hovered nearby, but strangely, Sansa was listening with rapt interest to Tyrion.

_ I’ve never seen Sansa ignore young lords to such an extent. The tale must be most amusing. I can only imagine what inappropriate nonsense Tyrion is telling her. _

Not far from Sansa’s side, Myrcella and Prince Trystane were deep in conversation. The young pair seemed quite interested in one another, and Catelyn wondered if they would make a match. 

Nearby, Tyrstane’s older sister, Princess Arianne had Jon’s ear. The pair smiled easily and eyed Myrcella and Trystane with knowing smirks.

Ned sighed at Catelyn’s side and answered the question that Catelyn forgot she had asked. “Genna has no shortage of complaints. Of course, she’d like to see more color infused in the Kingsguard armor.”

Catelyn chuckled at the words and watched as Rickon took his turn on the dance floor with Brienne. Her youngest son stood on Brienne’s feet as she guided them in a dance. The sight drew a fond sigh from Catelyn; her heart swelling with happiness.

“Genna has also been worried about Jaime. Her preference for him and Brienne to serve one term has been quite clear, but Barristan has as much say in that as he does most of her other requests.”

_ I can’t fault Genna for that. A knight’s life is dangerous, and I too would rather Jaime and Brienne have a chance at peace. _

A hint of laughter touched Ned’s tone as he continued. “Then there is the matter of Barristan’s personal life. She thinks he needs a good woman to help him loosen up.”

_ Oh gods. _

Catelyn chuckled lightly at the sight of Genna scolding Barristan about his hair that evening. She futzed with it as they danced and Barristan kept trying to bat her hand away, albeit ineffectively. Dance partners soon changed and Olenna found her way to Barristan while Genna danced with Selwyn. Smiling wider than before, Catelyn watched as Robb danced with Brienne and Talisa danced with Jaime.

Catelyn’s first grandbabe would arrive soon. Talisa was six moons with child, and Catelyn was eager to help the young couple at Winterfell. While she had been uneasy about Robb’s decision to cast aside the betrothal to one of Walder’s daughters, everything had worked out in the end and her son made a love match.

Catelyn leaned against Ned as he looped an arm around her. “Everyone seems so happy. I did not think we’d have been here just a year ago.”

Ned hummed at her side. They had spoken on the topic many times of late; both agreeing they were lucky with how things turned out. Soon the music changed again. Brienne danced with her father who was eager to escape Genna. Jaime was actively trying to flee his aunt as Genna swatted his arm and forced him into a dance. The older woman pinched his ears fondly as they began to dance, though Catelyn could see Jaime trying to find Tyrion in the crowd.

The dancing went late into the night, but it hadn’t taken long for the newlywed couple to slip from the crowd before a bedding could be called for. The children had long retired as the older attendees drank at the tables; their loud voices filling the hall.

Despite her happiness at the event, Catelyn’s mind wandered to Bran. The thought of her missing son consumed Catelyn’s thoughts throughout the day.

_ Gods keep him safe wherever he may be, but return him to me. I want my family whole once more. _

At her table, Catelyn smiled as Robb, Talisa, and Ned spoke of the babe to come. They wished to name a son after Ned, and a daughter after Talisa’s mother. Ned was honored at the information and smiled proudly at the fine young man their son had become. He would make an excellent lord at Winterfell in Ned’s absence, though Catelyn lamented leaving Ned to the south again.

He was needed though. Jon needed family to support him in his new role. There was still much to accomplish in the kingdoms, and the looming threat across the Narrow Sea weighed on Catelyn as much as Jon’s described threat to the north.

Glancing around the hall, Catelyn chuckled at Selwyn and Barristan getting an earful from Olenna and Genna. For as much as Olenna and Genna enjoyed giving each other a hard time, they were similar in nature and amusing to be around. The women spoke animatedly as the men groaned and made faces.

Judging by the color in their cheeks, all four were enjoying the wine and the company despite the women’s complaints. Catelyn almost fell off her chair when not long after, Genna began tugging Barristan from the hall; her arm looped around his as she laughed loudly at his side.

_ Good luck, Barristan. _

Catelyn’s eyes scanned the room slowly and landed on Jon. To Catelyn’s surprise, he was still speaking with Princess Arianne. The pair leaned close; small smiles tugging at their lips. Raising a brow, Catelyn leaned into Ned.

“That is interesting.”

Ned didn’t need to ask what Catelyn meant. He huffed a small laugh and leaned into her ear. “You should see them in meetings these past weeks. She was sent to improve relations between the crown and Dorne. I think they found a way to ensure that.”

With a small smile, Catelyn turned back to her husband. “I’m too old for such late evenings. I should like to spend time with my husband before I depart in a few days.”

Standing from his seat, Ned was happy to oblige. They said their goodbyes to some of the remaining guests and returned to their chambers. Whether on account of the atmosphere at the wedding, or her own despair at being separated from Ned for so long, Catelyn received little sleep that night. She tried to commit every touch, kiss, and coupling to memory. A small part of her wondered at how long she would need to be separated from Ned during this parting.

_ Surely Robb and Talisa could manage. Perhaps in a year I could join Ned in the city. Rickon would be six and nearing an age to serve as a page.  _

Catelyn dreamed of all that could be when she eventually found sleep in her husband’s arms. The next day, a flurry of activity around the castle roused them in the Tower of the Hand. The girls were bickering and the Septa chased them down the hallway. 

While Sansa and Arya still quarreled from time to time, a peace had settled over their relationship that didn’t exist a year ago. Now their bickering was harmless and more of a nuisance to the Septa.

More so than the girls’ noise, the castle staff were loudly rushing about. Some of Genna’s belongings had been put into storage at the Tower of the Hand. The woman did not travel lightly, and there was not enough space in the guest wing for all her things. Genna was to depart that morning, and it was likely the staff was scrambling to get her items in order.

After readying for the day, Catelyn and Ned made their way to the courtyard to bid goodbye to Genna and Jaime’s cousins who had arrived a week prior for the wedding. The older woman was barking orders at the staff as they packed the carriages and prepared the horses. Catelyn bit back a smile as her eyes followed the powerhouse of a woman.

Tyrion stood half-awake and rather hungover just a few feet away by the wall. He was leaning against the stonework, but nodding off and ready to fall onto his face. Moving to his side, Catelyn used her body as a post to prop him upright.

“Lord Tyrion, your kin are soon to depart. Perhaps you could stand upright for a bit.”

Tyrion startled slightly and shook the fog from his head. “Apologies. I do believe that I just drooled on your skirt. That type of activity is usually reserved for my chambers.”

Catelyn groaned in distaste, but she had become strangely accustomed to Tyrion’s vulgar japes. Elbowing him slightly, she huffed and watched as Genna turned to appraise those assembled. Next to Ned, Barristan stood looking equally unkempt. It was strange to see him out of armor; his well-fitted tunic and breeches showcasing how fit he was despite his age.

_ Oh. Perhaps Genna has a better eye than I gave her credit for. _

“Where are my nephew and goodniece!?”

It was a question that didn’t need asking. Though nearly midday, Catelyn imagined that the newlyweds had less sleep than any other castle occupants the night prior. Barristan’s words all but confirmed as much.

“I wasn’t about to go anywhere near that room to summon them.”

Genna scoffed and approached Tyrion with a fond smile on her face. “Now Tyrion, I expect regular communication! I must keep you abreast of all happenings at the Rock. You’re our lord now, and you need to conduct yourself as such! Keep in communication with the vassals.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yes, yes. I know. I do believe I already began establishing  _ diplomatic relations _ last night.”

Both Catelyn and Genna groaned at the comment. After bidding goodbye to Catelyn, Genna approached Barristan. Despite the hushed tones, Catelyn could hear her reprimanding the man.

“Just keep an eye on him.”

With a sigh, Barristan nodded. “I said that I would.”

Genna’s next words were much lower, but Catelyn could still hear them. “He’s much more sensitive than he lets one. If he gets overwhelmed…”

Putting up a hand, Barristan nodded. “I understand more than you know. I’ll watch after him as though he was my own.”

Genna’s face fell slightly and she nodded. “Thank you.”

A peculiar look passed between them that Catelyn couldn’t quite read. After saying goodbye to Ned, Genna turned towards the carriages. A loud sound from the Keep caught her attention. A shirtless Jaime surged into the courtyards with Brienne not far behind. She was the far more put together of the two, but still rather unprepared to start the day.

“Here I am! Your favorite Lannister!” Jaime shouted loudly; his voice causing Tyrion to groan and cover his ears. 

Genna turned to them and her face lit up brilliantly. “Brienne! You came to see me off!”

Shoving past Jaime, Genna wrapped her arms around Brienne. The mock offense on Jaime’s face eliciting laughter from Brienne as she looked to him from over Genna’s head.

Whispered words were exchanged between the pair before Genna offered Brienne a final squeeze. Turning to Jaime, Genna extended her arms. “Come on then.”

It was endearing to watch the embrace between aunt and nephew. Jaime thought himself safe, but before stepping away, Genna gave his ears a good pinch and spoke commandingly.

“Crimson, Jaime! Wear more crimson! You’re a bloody Lannister. And by the gods put a shirt on! This is the Red Keep, not a brothel.” 


	55. Jaime XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime adjusts to life as a married man. Rumors swirl of the dragon queen across the Narrow Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Catelyn POV). Back to more plot movement after this one.

Jaime sat down in Barristan’s office. He was pale and confused as his brain worked to push away the fog and images of the morning. He had been on guard duty overnight and felt half-awake as he dragged his feet back towards the White Sword Tower.

As a newlywed, Jaime wasn’t getting much rest. He and Brienne took full advantage of their time together when neither were guarding Jon. It had been a moon turn since their wedding, and Jaime felt like a man half his age. His lust for Brienne knew no bounds, and at the pace they were going, the whole of the Keep would be filled with little knights if they neglected to call for Brienne’s daily moon tea.

What happened that morning was most unexpected. Jaime stumbled down the dark hallways as the first rays of sunlight crept up over the horizon. The route he walked to his room was one of muscle memory. For most of his life, Jaime had occupied the same room in the White Sword Tower. Of course, that room was no longer his.

After the wedding, Barristan moved Brienne and Jaime to a slightly larger room. The staff had grumbled at having to move the larger bed a second time in a matter of days, but Barristan had only sighed and questioned them.

_ ‘Have you seen the size of them? There is barely room in there for the larger bed, let alone their belongings. These chambers were not designed for married couples.’ _

Without looking up from the missive he was writing, Barristan hummed. “I can hear that brain of yours going. What is it?”

“It’s nothing I just… the room assignments are  _ very _ confusing. I keep walking into my old room. It has become… problematic.”

Barristan’s brows furrowed and his hand stilled. A small droplet of ink dripped off the tip of the quill as he considered Jaime’s words. Looking up at Jaime, understanding slowly washed over Barristan’s features. “Ah, yes. Ser Balon is in your room now.”

Jaime nodded slowly as though lost in a trance. Appraising Jaime’s expression, a loud laugh pushed past Barristan’s lips. “Come now, you spoke highly of the man’s skill with a sword just some weeks ago. Didn’t care to join in?”

“I preferred admiring his skill with a different sort of sword.”

Barristan threw back his head and guffawed. His body shook with mirth as he tried to collect himself, wiping stray tears from his eye. 

“For a man of your age, you’re quite wet behind the ears, Jaime. For some of the sworn brothers of Kingsguards past, the brotherhood once offered a degree of freedom from  _ traditional _ expectations. Under the old vows, there was no pressure to marry or have children.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He began to protest, but Barristan cut him off. “Is that not why  _ you _ joined? To be close to someone  _ you _ could never have while shirking duties to your House?”

“Fair point. No emphasis on the  _ point _ . I’ve had quite enough of that for the day.”

Barristan chuckled and looked back to his missive. “Well, there have been quite a lot of  _ points _ made in this tower. Chastity indeed.”

_ Oh. Is Barristan… _

A heavy silence fell over them and Barristan glanced up once more. Seeing the look on Jaime’s face, Barristan’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. No, I prefer to keep swordplay to the yards, thank you. In my youth, I was quite fixated on becoming a knight. I noticed women when it was too late. Vows were already said, and I took them  _ quite _ seriously.”

Nodding in understanding, Jaime felt the awkwardness of the morning set in as he glanced around the room. Oblivious to Jaime’s surprise at the information, Barristan leaned back and began rambling mindlessly. He was lost in thought as he recalled years and memories long gone.

“A few in King Jaehaerys’ Kingsguard and even Aerys’ Kingsguard had few concerns over the ‘father no children’ bit. Ser Lewyn Martell never saw a cock he didn’t like, Ser Gerold Hightower was known to dabble occasionally, Ser Arthur…”

“Ser Arthur!?”

Barristan raised an amused brow at Jaime’s outburst. “He was  _ Dornish _ , Jaime. He didn’t have a very discriminating palate. Men. Women. He reminded me a bit of Prince Oberyn in that regard. They called him the Sword of the Morning, half in reverence, but for the brothers, half in jest.”

Jaime’s face was the picture of shock which only served to encourage Barristan. His shoulders shook with mirth and he leaned forward. “Are  _ you  _ to judge a brother for sleeping with a sibling? I believe you are currently married to a sworn sister, and let us not speak of your prior love interest.”

“No! I don’t judge them at all! I just… I didn’t  _ know _ . It’s surprising is all.”

Barristan shrugged as though it mattered little. “There was really no need to discuss it. Does it change your opinion of them?”

“Of course not! You don’t get to choose who you love. It was just… a lot… to start the day. A lot of Ser Balon that I never cared to see regardless of his choice in bedmate.”

With a sympathetic smile, Barristan tilted his head at Jaime. “Maybe you don’t walk the same route back to your room that you have for almost twenty years. A new routine can help you remember so that you don’t wander into the bed of other siblings.”

Jaime stiffened at the words which only brought Barristan more amusement. Picking up his quill once more, Barristan shook his head and smiled. “Go get some rest before food is brought up. Someone should be well-rested around here. I don’t imagine Ser Balon will be.”

Standing from the chair, Jaime swayed slightly from lack of sleep. He hated slipping into bed without Brienne there, but on this morning, it would be for the best. As he walked towards the door, Jaime considered all that Barristan had said. He paused and turned in question.

“So you’ve never… with anyone?”

Barristan glanced up at Jaime through his lashes. “I was three-and-twenty when I said my vows. Before that, I was rather obsessed with winning tourneys. That left little time for such experiences; not that I would have. I… would have preferred love. I suppose we have that in common. I know the brothers tried to bring you to a brothel once, and at the time, I quite respected you for not partaking. Of course, I did not know you were slipping into a certain queen’s chambers at night nor during Robert’s hunting trips.”

Jaime felt his face flush. It struck him odd how the love he was once proud of and would do anything for, now brought him shame and repulsion. Before Jaime could reply, Barristan confirmed what the words implied. “To your question, I have not. Though, I was in love once.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. Taking a tentative step forward, he spoke inquisitively. “Who?”

A wistful smile spread across Barristan’s face. “Lady Ashara Dayne. The feeling made it quite difficult to see her around the Keep every day when she was a lady-in-waiting for Princess Elia. I was quite foolish really. I had wanted to name her ‘queen of love and beauty’ had I won the tourney at Harrenhal in 281; such a dolt. Of course, nothing could come of it, and I was never so foolish to give voice to my feelings.”

Jaime felt a pang of sympathy for the man, “You are free to partake in love now.”

Barristan snorted and tilted his head at Jaime. “I am three-and-sixty, Jaime. Love will not find me in this life.”

The words didn’t sit right with Jaime. He hesitated for a moment before leaving the room. “You’re never too old to find love.”

Jaime left Barristan’s office and walked back to his  _ correct _ room. The bed was cold and miserable without Brienne in it, but she was on duty with Loras that morning.

The young knight from the Reach had struck up a friendship with Brienne. While Jaime had not always been fond of Loras, he felt badly for all that the young knight had been through. In a year’s time, Loras lost Renly and his sister. Loras suffered through blame for Renly’s death, and guilt at the loss of Margaery. Having been blamed once for misunderstandings, Jaime could empathize. 

In Brienne, Loras found companionship. Brienne’s former affection for Renly allowed her to share insights from her time with Loras’ lost love. They bonded over memories of Renly, and Brienne tried to encourage Loras to never forget him, but try to forge ahead; to find a new love.

Jaime recalled her words to Loras from a week prior.  _ ‘I fancied myself in love with Renly once. I would have done anything just to serve at his side even though I knew he could never love me. I never thought it possibly to love more than I had Renly, but I was quite wrong. I know you and Renly had true love whereas what I had was the silly longings of a young girl, but I only mean to say that you could find that again…. Someone to love. It won’t be the same as Renly, but you could find happiness. Perhaps you could find an even greater love.’ _

Brienne always had a way of making others feel better. Her endless capacity to sympathize and support others was one of many things that Jaime loved about her. 

Slowly, Jaime drifted off to sleep. As always, he dreamed of sapphire eyes and golden fields. In sleep, he dreamed of a slight swell at Brienne’s belly as he held her close and ran a hand through her hair.

A hand shook Jaime from sleep, startling him. “Jaime. It’s nearly time for lunch.” Barristan peered down at Jaime as he leaned over the bed. As Jaime shared a room with Brienne, he never barred the door unless they were both inside.

Sitting upright, Jaime ran a hand through his hair. “I must have been quite tired.”

Barristan huffed a laugh and walked to the window. His voice was low as he replied while appraising the city in the distance. “Yes, I imagine so. The life of a newlywed. Staff seem hesitant to enter unless the door is open and the room empty. I daresay I’ve never had the staff ask  _ when _ a room should be free for cleaning.”

Jaime smirked at the words. On more than one occasion, fast-retreating footsteps of castle staff could be heard as Brienne and Jaime moaned their release. Jest laced Jaime’s tone as he replied to Barristan’s comment.

“Perhaps we’ll leave a little symbol at the door when it’s safe to enter. A helm or something”

Barristan rolled his eyes. “Well I hardly care if you sleep all day, but I believe you promised Lady Arya and young Podrick a spar. They’re sitting in my office and pestering me about it.”

“Seven hells. Yes, I promised Brienne I would train them today.”

Jaime quickly threw on his tunic and jerkin before grabbing his sword. At his side, Barristan exhaled in relief as they made their way back towards his office. They arrived to find the young pair sitting at a corner table and debating whose sword would hold better in battle.

“I told your father to get you a proper sword. Why do you still have that  _ thing _ ?”

Jaime approached and grabbed the small sword from Arya’s hand. The young wolf scoffed in reply and tilted her chin proudly. “My brother gave me that sword. If a king thinks it worthy, it must be.”

Raising a brow, Jaime unsheathed half of Ice. Holding Arya’s little sword in his left hand, Jaime prepared to cut down on it with the Valyrian steel. “Shall we test how worthy it is?”

“No!” Arya’s eyes were a plea as she looked imploringly at Jaime. “I’ll get a new one! I swear it.”

“Good. Lets go.”

The afternoon in the yards passed quickly. Jaime was surprised at how well Arya moved around Pod who had the advantage of height and reach. Pod listened well, but his movements were less fluid. 

The boy had improved under Brienne’s tutelage, and Jaime imagined he would grow into a fine knight someday. Still, he had a ways to go and serving as a proper squire would aid him greatly.

By contrast, Arya was a natural. She was eager and fast, but her disadvantage would be stature. Men would try to take advantage of the disparity in size when facing her, and Jaime tried to show Arya movements to counter such scenarios.

Familiar voices drifted through the space and captured Jaime’s attention. Sansa and Myrcella were strolling the grounds with the Martell children. Prince Doran had sent Princess Arianne to treat with Jon. Dorne, like the Reach, had been enraged when confirmation of Cersei’s intentional destruction at the Dragonpit reached their ears.

Along with their household guards, Princess Arianne brought her youngest brother, Prince Trystane, to the capital. The young prince seemed a kind young man, but something about the way he was looking at Myrcella unnerved Jaime. 

The first realization had come to Jaime at the wedding, but he thought it a mere reflection of the merriment than actual interest. Jaime’s voice faded as he watched the group; the instructions aimed at Arya trailing off nonsensically.

“What? I did! Are you even watching?” Arya huffed and moved to Jaime’s side. When she followed his eyeline, Arya snorted.

“Your brother thinks they’ll make a fine match. They’ve been walking together daily for the past weeks. You don’t need to scowl at them.”

“I’m not scowling!” Jaime snapped without looking at Ned's youngest daughter.

_ Well… perhaps I’m scowling a bit. _

“They like each other.” Arya sounded far too amused for Jaime’s taste.

Glancing at the young wolf, Jaime narrowed his eyes. “She’s a child. She likes many things.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Arya’s lips. “My sister was not much older than Myrcella when your King Robert betrothed her to Joffrey. I think it’s gross. Boys are annoying.”

“They are. You would do well to stay away from them.” Jaime replied absently and considered the rest of Arya’s words.

Jaime knew it was a fair point. Myrcella was of an age where many nobles sought to make matches. Still, he wasn’t ready to go through that. He had only just established some type of relationship with Myrcella. The thought of losing her so soon was disheartening.

Unwilling to share his inner turmoil, Jaime huffed at Arya. “Back to position. Your footwork still needs improvement.”

Some hours later, Jaime dragged himself back to the White Sword Tower. After finishing the training session with Pod and Arya, he bathed and then spent some time with Tyrion. He knew that Brienne’s shift would end in time for supper, and having only taken one quick meal that day, Jaime was eager to drag her to the dining room. 

The Kingsguard had opted to have meals together in the White Sword Tower since taking their new vows. Barristan thought that with the Kingsguard only serving for optional terms, it would be nice to have the knights bond and renew the practice of eating together. Jaime recalled always taking meals with the sworn brothers he served beside under Aerys. The only difference then was the lack of comradery afforded to him.

His sworn brothers had a strong bond, but while they always acknowledged Jaime and were kind, he never felt accepted by them. It wasn’t until Barristan shared their collective opinions of Jaime’s placement that he understood why.

In Jon’s Kingsguard, Jaime had Brienne at his side, and the peculiar relationship he had forged with Barristan. Jaime always idolized Barristan, but the aged knight had acted more like a fatherly figure of late. 

At first, Jaime didn’t recognize the changing dynamic between himself and Barristan, mostly because he never understood what a caring father could be like.

Tywin was cold and distant; his children political pieces to be used for his own gains. Having an older male figure who genuinely cared for Jaime and looked after him was unexpected, though much welcome. When Brienne was on duty, Jaime was often with Barristan.

At Jaime’s side, Brienne and Loras laughed loudly at some shared jape from earlier that day.

“But did you see the look on his face?” Loras chuckled as he stabbed a potato with his fork.

Brienne’s head nodded emphatically in reply. “The veins in his head looked as though they might pop.”

Jaime was about to ask what they were on about, but Brynden and Balon walked into the room. Balon took a seat beside Loras and Brynden took a seat beside Jaime. The Blackfish reached for the food set out in the middle of the table and began piling it onto his plate.

Glancing at Balon, Loras spoke questioningly. “I thought you had guard duty.”

The Stormlands knight huffed and began shoveling food onto his own plate. “I did, but I switched with the Hound. He’s with Ser Barristan guarding Jon now.”

Turning to Jaime, Balon raised a brow. “I suppose the good news in my taking the overnight shift is that Ser Jaime can wander into my chambers all he likes without issue.”

Jaime felt his face flush at the reprimand in Balon’s tone, but an apology escaped him. “I recall quite vividly how easily the door can be barred. It’s amazing how well it works at keeping people out.”

At his side, Brienne groaned. “You did it again?”

It wasn’t the first time, though it was the first time that Balon had not been alone when it happened. Shifting in his chair, Jaime looked at his plate and mumbled.

“I was very tired.”

Balon snorted and took a bite of boar; considering Jaime as he chewed. “Ser Caron was rather perplexed. He was positive the Kingsguard you married was a woman, yet you barged in quite purposefully. He thought you meant to join us.”

Brienne and Loras chuckled at the words. At his side, Brienne spoke questioningly to Balon. “I thought he set out for the Reach yesterday.”

“No, he had to delay. Lucky for me. Not so lucky for Ser Jaime.”

_ Wait. Am I the only one to not know that Balon has a lover? Why am I the last to learn all these things? _

Loras hummed at Balon’s side. “Shame. He is quite amusing. I’m really not certain what he’s doing with someone so grumpy as you.”

Balon snorted and broke apart his dinner roll. “Well when I keep getting placed on duty with the Hound, I look quite cheery in comparison. You’re hardly one to comment, Loras. You spent our last shared shift scowling at the wall.”

“Well that’s because this one took my preferred shift!” Loras poked his fork in Jaime’s direction. “Gods forbid he has to go two nights without his wife.”

Jaime began to protest, but Brynden spoke over him. “Nepotism.  _ Father _ Barristan plays favorites.”

Loras, Brienne, and Balon chuckled at the words, but Jaime’s mouth gaped in offense. “ _ Ser Barristan _ does not play favorites and he is not...” 

“Oh, do shut up, Jaime.” Brynden huffed and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth. “No one cares. I’m giving you a hard time.”

Humming in amusement, Loras took a sip of his wine. “Though I will say, your wife is the much more enjoyable Lannister to share shifts with. She isn’t constantly munching away on apples or yammering on about every passing thought.”

_ The apples are quite good though.  _

Steering the conversation away from one another, Balon licked the food from his fingers and spoke with uncertainty in his tone.

“Did you hear about that dragon across the sea? They say she aims to make way to Westeros and claim her throne.”

Brynden sighed heavily at Jaime’s side. Crossing his arms, the older knight’s expression turned grave. “Ned mentioned as much. Varys’ sources say Littlefinger stole coin from the crown before fleeing east, and he intends to escort her across the Narrow Sea. She has an army of Unsullied at her back and growing dragons flying about in Slaver’s Bay. She intends to continue conquering in Essos, but rumors swirl that Littlefinger is trying to sway her to look west instead.”

Jaime felt a sense of dread set in. Glancing at Brienne, he slid his hand under the table to squeeze her knee. A reassuring hand rested over his, and Brienne smiled warmly. Her words aimed to reassure as she whispered for his ears only.

“It will be fine.”

_ Will it? Aerys’ daughter… here in Westeros?  _


	56. Bran VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran arrives at the cave north of the Wall where he finds his fate. He sees much - past and present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to make this another double posting day, but editing the next chapter might take a few hours.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t have legs.”

The Bloodraven sighed heavily and appraised Bran with an unreadable expression on his face. His empty eye socket frightened Bran; the young Stark shifting on his feet as he assessed the cave.. 

“Why would you wish that upon me? You have legs.”

The man’s head tilted in question as he sat on his throne of chaotic tree roots which bound him in place. “I have meat and bones, but no legs. I lost them when I journeyed north of the Wall.”

“How?” Bran felt an overwhelming need to know everything about the man before him. The man who claimed that Bran was drawn north to replace him.

“A ranging mission. A group of Wildlings was said to be causing problems for my sworn brothers. I was Lord Commander at the time and refused to flee. I was the shield to more than the realms that day as I covered my brothers’ retreat. An axe to the back left my legs paralyzed, but the Children saved me. They used magic to prevent infection from spreading, but I was never to walk again. My predecessor and all those before him were of similar impairment. None of us could walk. It was meant to be so.”

Bran’s brows furrowed at the statement. He took a step closer and inspected the mess of limbs and tree roots before him. Over the years, the Bloodraven’s limbs had warped and bent in unnatural directions. 

“Why weren’t you meant to walk?”

A challenge shone in the Bloodraven’s eye. “Take the root. I’ll show you.” 

Glancing back at Hodor and Meera, Bran lamented not having Jojen to advise him. The young boy had died seeing him safely into the cave not an hour earlier. Meera’s eyes were red and her cheeks chapped from crying. Anger and sorrow were writ across her face as she stared at the creature before them.

Turning back towards the Bloodraven, Bran nodded slowly. He stepped forward and kneeled before the mess of tree roots reaching out before him. The effort sent a jolt of pain through Bran’s yet healed legs. The cold made Bran’s aching limbs hurt more than usual and slowed his recovery process. 

With a deep breath, Bran’s fingers reached out and wrapped around a root. A jolt surged through his body as his senses were overrun by an array of sights, smells, and sounds. Bran was transported to the day that the Bloodraven set out beyond the Wall. 

_ 48 Years Prior _

“Enter.” Maester Aemon Targaryen called out from his study at Castle Black. His eyesight was beginning to blur, but he still saw well enough to read and write during the daytime. At night, his eyes struggled more and candlelight was not enough to keep his books or reply to missives from the south.

Bran stood beside the Bloodraven and watched as the man’s younger self, Brynden Rivers, entered the room. The Bloodraven was dressed in garb befitting the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. At his hip, Brynden wore two swords. 

“Maester Aemon. I’m headed beyond the Wall to deal with the pack of Wildlings cutting off our rangers’ path back from their orders.”

With a nod, Aemon stood and rounded his desk. “Very well, Lord Commander. Shall we expect your return this evening or on the morrow?”

The Bloodraven glanced towards the window. A raven sat at the ledge cawing loudly. 

“No. I don’t suspect that I’ll be back for… some time. I leave you with my orders should I fail to return by the week’s conclusion. I’ve had one of my visions…” Brynde had a scroll in hand and reached out to Aemon. 

The maester sighed and shook his head. “Yes, I imagine so. Truthfully, I don’t much believe in greensight, but you’ve proven true enough in the past. Any word you would leave me?”

“Yes, and I daresay, if what I’ve seen comes to fruition, these orders will mean life or death.”

The words caught Aemon by surprise. While he struggled to trust the man given his brother’s, Aegon V’s, assessment, Aemon believed Brynden’s intuitions. With a heavy sigh, he stepped forward and took the scroll with a bow. 

“What would you ask of me?”

Unstrapping his Valyrian steel sword, Dark Sister, the Bloodraven met Aemon’s eyes. “I see dead blue eyes and living blue eyes. Both a startling shade of blue. The sight of both would steal your breath; one in fear and one in awe. The one with living blue eyes must wield this sword and no one else. The secret princess. Rhaella’s daughter. She’ll have her mother’s pendant around her neck and a kind voice. A voice that will  _ remind  _ you.”

Aemon’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He took the sword and stared at it. A small huff of laughter pushed past his lips. “Visenya’s sword shall return to a woman. Fitting I suppose. My great-niece, Rhaella, is only three. I’m meant to hold this for so long?”

The Bloodraven stared unblinking with his remaining eye. “For longer. Rhaella will no longer draw breath when her daughter comes to claim this. Goodbye, Maester Aemon.”

“Lord Commander… what will become of you?”

Aemon’s eyes followed Brynden as he moved towards the door. Taking pause, Brynden glanced over his shoulder. “I trade in one eye for a thousand. I trade in legs for wings.”

Bran glanced at the older version of the Bloodraven at his side. Only in visions could the man walk. “How did you know?”

The man’s eye remained fixed on his younger self as the door to Aemon’s study openedand his younger self moved out. 

“Like you, my greensight came early in life. It grew stronger as I aged. I saw more as I lost an eye. Many accused me of sorcery, and while I did dabble in the dark arts, it was always greensight that guided me. I had better control over it by the time I accepted my fate. I did not know how I would lose my legs or when I would become what you see now, but I knew it must happen. It was my fate. Come. See my predecessors.”

* * *

For what felt an eternity, the Bloodraven showed Bran all manner of things. He showed Bran his predecessors and the various accidents that rendered them crippled. He showed Bran the Night King’s creation, and the outcome of that fateful decision by the Children. He showed Bran his ancestor, Bran the Builder and his efforts to fortify the Wall with magic to keep the Night King from humanity. 

It was overwhelming and Bran longed to understand why he was called north by this creature. For weeks, they sat in the cave and Bran watched history play out behind his lids. Events which Bran heard of as a boy now occurred before his eyes. Ser Arthur’s defeat and Jon’s birth. Aerys’ madness and Ser Jaime’s decision. Bran saw events well before those he knew of. Past sovereigns, wars, and threats. 

The voices came at Bran faster than ever before, and it felt as though he may implode from lifetimes’ worth of memories being imprinted into his mind. Then Bran learned how to better harness the voices; how to better control when and where he visited. 

The future was more of an unknown. Various paths stretched out for every scenario, but it was impossible to know how things would play out. The Bloodraven showed the various scenarios that could have left Bran crippled; one path in which Jaime’s palm shoved forcefully enough to send Bran falling to the ground. 

Despite seeing all, Bran couldn’t read the minds of those choosing their paths; paths that could change the course of history for all. He could however try to understand what drove the decisions.

As Bran’s thirst for knowledge grew, he tried venturing on his own. His first experiment came when he looked across the Narrow Sea. As Bran held the tree root of the ancient weirwood, he concentrated on Littlefinger. 

_ Across the Narrow Sea _

Bran stepped into a sunny room. A young woman with silver-blonde hair and violet eyes peered out at the city before her from atop a grand balcony. At her side, Littlefinger stared intently at her face.

“It’s time. You now have three armies and the dragons are nearly grown. I have the coin we need for a fleet. It is time to take what is yours; what was  _ stolen  _ from you.”

There was an unnerving resolve in the young woman’s eyes. Bran saw something flash in her violet hues that reminded him of Aerys, but there was an undercurrent of something else. She appeared to be conflicted. 

Part of Daenerys appeared prepared to conquer, but another part seemed uncertain. An innocence lingered in her eyes that Bran understood from lifetimes of watching similar scenarios play out in history. 

Daenerys made her decision. “I’ll leave Daario behind to oversee rule in my name.”

“No, we need him. We need all of your armies to win this war. My sources tell me that another claiming your House’s name has taken the throne. A pretender sister backed by the Kingslayer. They’ve united the kingdoms.”

Anger sparked in the young woman’s eyes. In that moment, Bran saw Aerys shine through in Daenerys. Rage beat back the more gentle gaze fighting for dominance. 

_ If she isn’t tempered soon, madness could set in as it did many before her.  _

“ _ Kingslayer _ . Tell me Lord Baelish, how do we approach this war.”

Littlefinger leaned on the railing; a vicious smirk at his lips. “We kill the Kingslayer and his love; the false Targaryen. The girl claims to be your mother’s bastard by Selwyn Tarth. I overheard her claim while still in Westeros. The Kingslayer intends to marry her and steal your crown through her. He means to finish what he started when he shoved a sword into your father’s back. First, we poison him after feigning interest in treating with them. Then we deal with your false sister.” 

“No. No poison.” Something in Daenerys’ eyes changed and Bran saw the flash of innocence again. “I’ll bring Westeros fire and blood as Aegon the Conqueror did. They may bend or choose death, but they will have the choice. I will deal with the Kingslayer in my own way, but not poison. I don’t like what it did to the last enemy.”

Putting up a pleading hand, Littlefinger tried a different approach. “As I said, that man meant to kill you. I only care for your safety, and poison can be less  _ problematic  _ than war. If you try to remove them with fire and blood, the Seven Kingdoms may fight back and challenge you. Pretend at kindness, your Grace. Lure them in. Poison the Kingslayer and his false Targaryen.”

Shaking her head, Daenerys swallowed thickly. “We do this my way, Lord Baelish. If you defy me once more, it will be you who feels the heat of my dragon’s breath.”

Littlefinger inhaled deeply and leaned back. Nodding in reply, he looked back towards the city. “As you command, your Grace. I’ll come up with a plan to minimize casualties among the people, and ensure your claim is recognized by the Great Houses. I would recommend that we dispose of House Stark. They helped the Kingslayer in this rebellion, and they stole my betrothed as Robert stole the crown. It is only fair…”

“I decide what is fair, Lord Baelish. We will discuss the matter of Sansa Stark when the time comes. For now, we take the throne.”

“Brandon!” The Bloodraven’s voice called out at Bran’s back. Turning slowly, Bran saw displeasure in the man’s eye. “I warned you of this. You are using these powers for selfish intent. This is not your fate.”

Before Bran could reply, they were back in the cave.

Frustration gnawed at Bran. “Why can’t I walk? Why can’t I care to know what threats come for my family and friends?”

The Bloodraven gripped the roots of the tree tightly. His voice was stern as he glared at Bran; his remaining eye moving rapidly to appraise him. 

“You can’t walk, because you are to take my place. My presence north of the Wall and the presence of those before me is what keeps balance. Bran the Builder built the Wall. If you leave here, you will be Bran the Breaker; destroyer of the Wall. If the three-eyed-raven moves south of the Wall, the magic holding it breaks. You are not Brandon Stark any longer. You must become the three-eyed-raven now. Your fate is to be mankind’s memory; not for selfish reasons, but to ensure life. Without memory, what are we? If we cannot learn from history, we are doomed to repeat it and repeat it man shall if it can’t recall where it erred. The Night King will win.”

_ My life for all of mankind? Is that what I’m to be? I’m to stay here, rotting against a tree, and watch as those I love are killed? What kind of life is that?  _

Bran bit his tongue and did not argue. Inwardly, he knew it was all wrong. 

_ If I was not meant to walk, my legs would fail me now. If my memory is meant to be unattached to human connection, my love of others should have faded. Good people should not die. What value does memory do when only evil men are left to learn from it? I will not abandon my family. I will not abandon myself.  _

Nodding as though he understood, Bran apologized and renewed his training. His time with the Bloodraven was not done and Bran could sense he had more to learn before moving south once more. Something about his visit was not complete, though Bran could not say why. 

So Bran stayed. He stayed and grew physically as he explored the past. He stayed and grew emotionally as he explored his powers. The Bloodraven taught him much, though Bran worried for Hodor and Meera. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to moons. They all aged a year in the drafty cave in the middle of the true north. 

* * *

It was well over a year when everything changed. The morning started out simple enough Meera stormed back into the cave after an unproductive hunting trip. “We’ve been here too long! The animals are steering clear of our area or I’ve killed them all. We’ll starve to death soon enough.”

Bran glanced up at the Bloodraven. He was once more lost to whatever trance he usually slipped into when not instructing Bran. Moving forward slowly, Bran crouched down and reached for a root. He wanted to learn more about the Night King and how to defeat him. Before returning south, Bran wanted to collect as much information as he could.

With his fingers around the root, Bran felt a familiar jolt. When his eyes opened, he was in a snow-covered field and standing among thousands of wights. The dead stood motionless staring south. An eerie silence hung over the space, and it seemed to Bran that even the wind sought refuge from the dead. 

Bran walked slowly through the rows of dead men. He appraised their decaying faces and tattered clothing. His eyes wandered left and right, seeking out their end. The dead stretched on forever in all directions. Then something shifted in the air.

Slowly, all the wights turned to face Bran. He froze in fear and glanced around as though trying to find the way out. 

_ Gods. How do I get out of here? How do I wake up? _

In other visions, Bran saw the event to completion before it slipped away. The Bloodraven had taught him not to stay too long in the past, but this was not the past. This was the present. For some reason, Bran had not landed where he wanted. He wished to return to the Night King’s creation, but instead, he was in the cold northern landscape among the current army of the dead. 

His heart began to beat rapidly and his feet stopped their progress. Uncertain how to end the vision, Bran turned around slowly. It was then that he saw the Night King. Before Bran could react, the creature’s hand was on his forearm. An incredible pain coursed through Bran’s body as the cold burned into his skin. 

With a gasp, Barn awoke in the cave. The Bloodraven screamed down at him from his perch among the tree’s roots. “What have you done!? He marked you!”

Bran grabbed at his tunic and yanked it above his elbow. A marking like a handprint covered his forearm. Bran’s panicked eyes lifted to the Bloodraven as though a cry for help. Meera rushed to Bran’s side to inspect the wound. Strong fingers grabbed at his arm and inspected the scarred flesh.

“Gods! What is this!? What happened!?”

Ignoring Meera’s questions, the Bloodraven stared at Bran solemnly. “Take the root. It’s time.”


	57. Brienne XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15 moons into marriage, Brienne gets some surprising news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting today - this and the prior chapter (Bran POV).

The examination table in the maester’s chambers was uncomfortable as Brienne sat upright and followed Maester Harmon with her eyes. Shock coursed through Brienne’s body and she shook her head in refute.

“That can’t be. I drink moon tea regularly.”

The maester sighed and tilted his head in question. “And how long have you been taking moon tea?”

Brienne had wed Jaime fifteen moons ago, and she drank it habitually. It was her aim to serve her first term as a Kingsguard without conceiving. Even after one term, she would still be young enough to birth babes for Jaime when the time came.

“Fifteen moons.”

The maester grimaced and shook his head. “Ser, this is not something I would encourage as the sole method for preventing a babe; particularly for that long. The long term effect of moon tea on the body is not one that has been studied. Most women take it to remove an existing pregnancy; whatever their reason might be. Does your husband spill inside of you every time?”

Brienne felt her cheeks flush at the question. Clearing her throat, Brienne could offer little more than an affirmative nod.

“And how often do you couple?”

Brienne’s reply was muffled, but honest. “Almost nightly.”

The maester sighed and placed a consoling hand on Brienne’s shoulder. “Then I’m surprised you’ve not become pregnant sooner. Either your body is simply not responding as intended to the current strength of the moon tea due to habitual processing of it, or the staff has made some error in brewing it. Perhaps the wrong tea has been used or the particular batch housed in the Keep is not as strong. I’ve seen some batches of moon tea without sufficient tansy.”

Brienne felt her hands begin to tremble. She wanted to flee the room and find Jaime. The maester’s steady voice spoke softly.

“Do you wish for me to brew some stronger tea, ser? I have the ingredients here and could ensure an appropriately balanced batch.”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne met his eyes and forced a smile. “I should speak with Ser Jaime first. Thank you, Maester Harmon.”

Leaving the room, Brienne moved quickly through the Keep. Her heart beat wildly as panic began to set in. Threats to the kingdom did not provide timelines for their arrival, but Brienne knew that two obstacles lay before them; the dead and Daenerys.

For over a year, Brienne had been able to satisfy her womanly desires and knightly endeavors. It was a blissful period in the kingdom, and Brienne enjoyed the rapport she had developed with her sworn brothers, Jon, and the children; Myrcella, Tommen, Sansa, Arya, and Pod.

Now she had to confront the reality of those blissful moments between the sheets with her husband. War would come, but no one knew when. A pregnancy could prove problematic in that effort to defend her king; her friend and nephew.

Making her way into the White Sword Tower, Brienne moved towards Barristan’s study. When Jaime wasn’t on duty and Brienne wasn’t with him, he could be found with Barristan. The two had grown impossibly closer over the past year. The other Kingsguard teasingly referred to them as Ser Father and Ser Son. Barristan japed that it was an improvement over his prior moniker; Ser Grandfather.

_ “At least they age me down.” _

Another wave of lightheadedness hit Brienne as she reached the top of the stairs. It had been one of several changes that led her to Maetser Harmon’s office that day. Knocking lightly at the door to Barristan’s study, Brienne steadied herself and tried to slow her heartrate.

Barristan’s voice called out to grant entry. The older knight sat behind his desk pouring through missives while Jaime sat transcribing something for him. Both men looked up at her, their mouths smiling widely before dropping at the sight of her ashen face.

Jaime stood and approached quickly. “What’s wrong?”

_ Do I look that awful? Lovely. _

Lowering her voice, Brienne spoke hurriedly. “Can I speak with you privately.”

Without so much as a word to Barristan, Jaime guided Brienne into the hallway and closed the door. “What’s happened?” Jaime’s eyes began to scan Brienne’s body for some unseen injury. His hands tried to turn her as though ensuring there was no dagger protruding from her back.

At Jaime’s fussing, Brienne grabbed his wrists to still his frenzied movements. “I saw the maester to discuss my ailments.”

Brienne glanced around the quiet hallway. She began to think a more private setting would have been better. If her sworn brothers returned, they may find Jaime in a full-blown meltdown when she delivered her news.

Jaime’s eyes went wide in panic. “We’ll fix it. There is a cure for everything. And if Maester Harmon proves incompetent, we’ll get another maester until it’s better.”

“Jaime.” Brienne’s voice halted Jaime’s panicked speech. Shaking her head, Brienne bit her lip and considered how best to deliver the life changing news.

“My condition is not terminal. It’s rather temporary in a way. It would seem my moon tea has proven ineffective. I uh… I am…”

Brienne’s sentence ended abruptly as Jaime tugged her close and lifted her from the ground. “You are!? A little knight!?”

The sudden movement was nearly enough to make Brienne vomit. The inability to keep down food was another wretched side effect of the little one growing safely within. Jaime placed her down and dropped to his knees; his hands coming to her abdomen.

“Our babe is in there.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. She wasn’t certain what type of reaction she expected from Jaime, but this was hardly it. When his head tilted up to look at her, Brienne noted the wet sheen in his eyes. He was so happy, and suddenly, Brienne felt guilty for her uncertainty.

Sensing her hesitance, Jaime’s smile faded. “Do you not… are you not happy?”

The hallway suddenly felt too small for this moment and Brienne was relieved she didn’t choose an even smaller space such as their room.

“I just… I want children, but… the dead. Daenerys. I’ll not be able to do what is expected of me. I’ll fail everyone; Jon, the realm, you, and the babe. I don’t think the timing is right.”

Jaime stood quickly from the floor. When his hands cupped her face, Brienne felt the tears welling in her eyes.

“You could never fail me or the babe. We don’t know when threats will come our way. We already dealt with one and we hadn’t even known of it until it was upon us.”

At the mention of Euron Greyjoy’s rebellion six moons prior, Brienne's mind recalled the images of the bloody war. Yara had taken the position as Master of Ships and Theon returned home to lead at his father’s side. While their uncle had not been home in many years, he returned and found his brother and nephew lacking.

Euron was rumored to have pushed his brother from a bridge. He then deemed Theon incompetent and claimed the Iron Islands for himself. When Yara received word from Pyke, she received Jon’s permission to subdue the rebellion. It turned into a small war that pitted uncle against niece.

The war was Brienne’s first test as a battle commander. She led a contingent from the southern side of the island after Theon had been imprisoned by his uncle. Yara led an attack from the North, and together they successfully converged on Euron. It was a chaotic battle, but Brienne’s blade met Euron’s throat by the end of it.

She was lauded as a war hero alongside Yara. The two women were carving a path for more young women to take up the sword and sailing. Jaime and Barristan boasted proudly to anyone who would listen, but their sworn brothers were quickly growing tired of the tale. 

Only Brynden seemed amused by Jaime’s boyish enthusiasm at the constant telling of the tale; a war that Jaime wasn’t even present for, but he managed to stitch together information from various soldiers who served under Brienne in the war.

Now as Brienne stared into Jaime’s eyes, she saw his resolve. “The dead could be hear in a moon, a year, or ten years. Daenerys might not even be a threat. You said it yourself. If we wait until the crown has no possible threats, we’ll be in the Stranger’s arms before we have our first little knight. Forget the realm… do you want a babe?”

Brienne had not considered it from that perspective. Of course she wanted a family, but she was having a difficult time separating her personal life from her position in the Kingsguard.

“I… I’ve always wanted a family. I never thought I’d have one, but I want one with you.”

Jaime’s smile returned immediately, and his lips crashed into hers. Before things became too improper for a hallway, Brienne placed her hands against Jaime’s chest and pushed him back lightly. “I’ll need to discuss with Ser Barristan what to do when I’m too pregnant to guard Jon properly.”

“Yes, of course. Come on then.” Jaime began to tug her into the room.

“Right now? You mean to discuss this right now?” Brienne began to protest as Jaime pulled Brienne inside and shut the door behind them.

“Why not? He should know.”

At their entry and Jaime’s words, Barristan looked up from his missive. His brows knitted in confusion as he appraised them. “Know what?”

Jaime pulled Brienne forward and bent at the waist so that he was eye level with Brienne’s belly. Pointing to her abdomen, he smirked at Barristan. “You’re going to be Ser Grandfather again. We’ve got your new squire in there.”

_ Oh gods. _

At the words, Barristan stood from his desk. His lips parted in shock before he rounded the desk; a wide smile spreading across his face. “This is wonderful! Congratulations, princess ser.”

Princess ser. It was Barristan’s name for Brienne which always drew a smile and eye roll from her. While the men fussed over her, Brienne tried to ground them in the harsh reality of what it meant.

“But my guard duty…”

“We’ll figure that out. We’re sworn brothers. We help each other when one can’t perform his or her duties.” Barristan waved her off as though the matter inconsequential.

“But the threats to come our way…”

Barristan again ignored Brienne’s noted concerns. “Yes, yes. Strangely they’ve not sent ahead a formal announcement of their planned arrival.” 

Placing his hands on Brienne’s arms, Barristan removed any mirth from his tone. “We don’t know when threats will come our way. You’ll be waiting a lifetime for peace to have babes.”

“Gods. Now you sound like Jaime.” Brienne rolled her eyes, but the knowing smirk on Jaime’s face was impossible to miss.

“Good! Listen to him more. He knows what he’s talking about.” Barristan smiled and huffed a small laugh before continuing. “We’ll speak with the maester and place you on duties that you can safely perform as time goes. There is ample work to do around here that requires things other than following King Jon around. I do imagine he’ll need to get a new sparring partner in several moons though.”

At the mention of her daily spars with Jon, Brienne smiled. It had been wonderful getting time to develop a strong bond with Jon. They sparred daily and took meals together when possible. They enjoyed their shared lineage as they understood one another better than most. Both experienced the judgement of others based on factors they couldn’t control; Brienne for her appearance and Jon when he was an assumed bastard.

Further, they shared loved ones as both cared deeply for the Stark children. Jon loved having Arya and Sansa in the city for a year and a half now. While he only had Brienne to share in his Targaryen lineage, he had a large family to share in his Stark lineage with.

“Now… tell me truthfully, Brienne. How are you feeling? You’re meant to be on guard duty tonight. I think we should change that.” Barristan’s eyes betrayed a hint of concern.

Brienne did not want to shirk her responsibilities so early on, but in truth, she was exhausted. The fatigue had hit her hard, though the maester said that should improve in another moon turn. Before she could reply, Jaime spoke at her side.

“I’ll take her overnight shift. She needs rest.”

Brienne huffed in annoyance. “Jaime, I can stand outside a door at night.”

Shaking his head in refute, Jaime insisted otherwise. “You need rest, Brienne. You fell asleep during supper two nights ago.”

It was hardly the first time that Jaime had teased her for it. One moment Brienne felt herself drifting as Loras amused the group with a tale, and the next moment Jaime was cradling her to his chest and tapping her cheek.

_ ‘Do I make you swoon, Ser, or is Ser Loras that boring?’ _

Tilting her chin up defiantly, Brienne tried to play at insignificance. “I had heard the tale already when I had my shift with Loras. I only needed a moment to rest my eyes.”

Jaime bit back a laugh and spoke challengingly. “You were drooling on my shoulder before your head rolled off and nearly smashed into the table.”

“The meal was very good. I was salivating.”

Barristan hummed in consideration. “Ser Jaime will take your shift tonight. We can discuss an appropriate schedule for your shifts later. I only ask that you be honest about how you’re feeling. You are sworn to protect the innocent.”

Barristan inclined his head at her belly before smiling warmly. “I imagine you’ll want to tell your nephew yourself. I’m certain he’ll be quite excited.”

With a knowing smirk Barristan walked back around to his desk. Brienne understood Barristan’s meaning. For moons Jon had teasingly asked when he would meet his newest cousin and future Kingsguard. While Brienne had reminded Jon of her desire to serve him well and truly, Jon only waved her off.

_ ‘I ensured with Barristan that this would work before you said your vows. I wanted you to be a knight and a mother whenever you wished it.’ _

Later that day, Brienne joined the Hound for the changing of the guards. “I thought I had guard duty with the more annoying Lannister.”

“Yes, well you’ll have to endure me instead. He’s taking the overnight shift.”

The Hound snorted. “He took your night shift? He must be dying to get his cock sucked.”

Brienne groaned in distaste. She wouldn’t dignify the comment with an answer. When Jon left his room to take supper, he nodded at the pair; his eyes widening at the sight of Brienne. “Oh, I thought…”

“Yes, you thought the more annoying Lannister was to guard you. Ser Sandor said the same.”

The Hound cringed at the title. After beating the Hound around the training yards several times, Brienne became the only one allowed to call him  _ Ser Sandor _ without complaint. Jon laughed lightly and put up a conciliatory hand.

“Fair enough. How was your day?”

_ Gods. Where to begin? _

“Interesting. Yours?”

Jon sighed and glanced around the hallways as though trying to ensure they weren’t being followed. “Ned won’t leave me be about the bloody Vale. He thinks that Robin needs a proper match. That he’s a bit… troubled… with only his mother there to help him rule.”

Brienne grimaced slightly. She heard from Tyrion how strangely the visit to the Vale with Lady Catelyn had been almost two years ago. With a heavy sigh, Jon changed the subject.

“Why was your day interesting? Did Ser Jaime do something ridiculous again?”

Brienne chuckled at the reference to the last time she described the day’s events as ‘interesting’. Of course, it had involved a wager between Jaime and Barristan with Jaime losing.

“Well… I finally saw the maester about that sickness I thought to have.”

“Oh?” Jon’s attention was fixed on Brienne at the words. “Are you alright?”

Brienne bit her lip slightly. Glancing down the hall, she took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, well about that cousin you’re keen to meet.”

At her words, Jon stopped walking and grabbed her arm. A wide smile stretched across his face. “Truly? You are?”

Nodding in affirmation, Brienne was startled as Jon embraced her. The size difference between them was substantial, but with Brienne in her armor, she appeared more like a mother hugging her small child. The Hound’s eyes went wide as he quickly scanned her body.

When Jon broke the embrace, he squeezed Brienne’s arm. “Congratulations. I’m very happy for you and my  _ gooduncle _ .” Jon enjoyed teasing Jaime of his new title. Jaime only allowed it since it vexed Ned.

_ ‘Look at that Lord Stark. We’re both uncles to the king. That makes us family... doesn’t it. Well congratulations. How very lucky for you to call me kin.’ _

The rest of the walk to the hall, Jon spoke excitedly about having a little knight around. He knew that Sansa would be quite excited, and Arya would be thrilled to be taller than someone again.

The rest of Brienne’s shift passed quickly, and she was quite excited at the prospect of crawling into bed. When Brienne and the Hound neared the end of their shift standing guard outside Jon’s door, the taller knight leaned over and spoke seriously.

“When we stand guard for the next moons, you let me handle any threat coming at the king. You protect that one.” His eyes dropped to non-existent swell. While Brienne had half a mind to challenge Sandor to a spar and demonstrate she was more than fit to take on any threat, she also felt the words strangely endearing.

With a sigh and tight-lipped smile, Brienne nodded. “That’s very considerate of you, but I can assure you that when the maester and Ser Barristan deem me unfit, they’ll put me on other duties for a time.”

They were soon relieved by Jaime. He looked impossibly happier since Brienne had last seen him. With a spring in his step, Jaime smiled wide at Brienne as he threw an apple back and forth between his hands. “Wife. I’m here to save you from this dreadful Hound.”

Placing a soft kiss to Brienne’s lips, Jaime nudged her towards the White Sword Tower with a smile. His hands lingered for a moment on Brienne’s belly. Unspoken words of love passed between them as the Hound grabbed Brienne’s pauldron and grumbled.

“Come on. I’m tired and you need an escort to the tower.”

Brienne smirked at Sandor; her voice teasing. “Ser Sandor, do you have a heart in there somewhere?”

The moody knight only huffed and shook his head. “I’m just excited to drink your share of the ale for the next few moons.”

They walked in silence for a moment before the Hound offered a small glimpse at the oversized heart that he hid behind crass words and scowls. “I don’t do nappies, but… I can watch the babe when you’re on duty and your annoying husband is busy.”

Brienne smiled widely at Sandor. “Thank you, Sandor. I would like that.” 


	58. Brienne XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne comes face to face with Daenerys.

Daenerys Targaryen did not arrive in Westeros in a matter of weeks following Jon’s coronation as Ned assumed she would. In fact, the dragon queen did not arrive in moon turns either. She arrived eighteen moons after Jon took the throne. 

A missive arrived from Tarth indicating a fleet had sailed past the island bearing the House Targaryen sigil. From what Lord Selwyn’s lookouts indicated, there were far more soldiers than Varys’ informants claimed in the last missive. 

_ Your Grace, _

_ Our fishermen and lookouts observed what appear to be an army of Unsullied and Dothraki sailing north towards Dragonstone. By multiple estimates, Daenerys Targaryen has an army of roughly 80,000. Shall I do as we discussed? _

_ Selwyn Tarth _

Over a year ago when word arrived of Littlefinger’s dealings with Daenerys, the crown had considered the best approach. They knew that it was likely Baelish would refute both Jon’s and Brienne’s lineage if he was aware of how much had changed in Westeros since he left. Knowing Baelish at least understood the truth of Brienne’s lineage, it was likely that Littlefinger prepared Daenerys for a throne occupied by House Baratheon or House Tarth. 

A week later, a missive arrived at the Red Keep.

_ To the false Targaryen, _

_ The true heir to the Iron Throne has returned home from exile for her crown. She has an army of 80,000 at her back; Unsullied, Second Sons, and Dothraki. She has three dragons at her disposal, which she will not hesitate to use to claim her birthright. _

_ Queen Daenerys has already conquered Yunkai and Meereen. While she did not need to conquer Meereen, she did so to free the people. Now she comes to Westeros to free the people from usurpers. Relinquish the crown, and we will accept a peaceful transition. If you fail to do so, we regret that you leave us with little choice but to take the throne by conquest.  _

_ Petyr Baelish _

_ Hand of the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms; Queen Daenerys Targaryen _

Both Tyrion and Olenna felt the best way to prevent war with Daenerys was to encourage Selwyn to meet with her. Given the older lord’s history with Rhaella and his ability to show proof by way of the missives exchanged and saved, Tyrion and Olenna believed that Selwyn could convince Daenerys that they were friends; not foes. 

Jon had been less certain. He didn’t wish to place Selwyn in harm’s way, but there appeared no other option. It was likely that Baelish was whispering all manner of lies into Daenerys’ ear, and the only way through would be a personal connection forged through kinship.

“What would you have me do, Brienne? I don’t want to put your father in harm’s way.”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne had to agree with Tyrion and Olenna. “He is our best chance at getting her here peacefully. I would recommend he treat with her on Tarth, and if she is agreeable, journey here to speak with you.”

Ravens flew in all directions. Jon instructed Selwyn to send the agreed upon missive. Throughout the other kingdoms, word had already been sent to call the banners in defense of the city. 

It was another three weeks before the dragon queen arrived. When she made her way to King’s Landing, the sound of dragons and Dothraki screamers preceded her. 

The crown’s army stood at full strength outside the city. From the battlements, Brienne looked out at the approaching army which was engulfed in a dustbowl. In the sky above, three dragons soared high above and made their presence known.

The Kingsguard stood at Jon’s side; their mouths ajar as they looked up at the great beasts. It was Brynden who broke the silence.

“Well I’ll be damned. Now I’ve seen it all.”

Jon sighed and narrowed his eyes as he looked to the approaching army. “If only that was all to see. Wait until the dead arrive.”

Following Jon’s eyeline, Brienne sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her father riding shoulder to shoulder with Daenerys. She prayed to the Seven that Selwyn had been successful in speaking with the young Targaryen. That he rode beside her with his head atop his shoulders was a good sign.

Ned and Barristan rode out to escort Daenerys into the city. A collective breath was held as the treating groups came together in the open field. When Ned, Barristan, and a the group of Gold Cloaks at their back turned around to lead Daenerys and her group forward, Brienne breathed a sigh of relief. 

The Kingsguard moved behind Jon into the Red Keep. Brienne and her sworn brothers stood without helms at the base of the stairs while Jon took his place upon the throne. The small council stood to the right hand side of the room, and Gold Cloaks lined the length of the hall. 

Soon, Ned and Barristan entered the room with a small group at their back. Brienne felt a wave of relief when her eyes scanned her father’s body and noted no injuries. Walking beside Daenerys on her left, Selwyn stood tall, but wary. To Daenerys right, Littlefinger spoke quietly in her ear. 

There were roughly a dozen guards with Daenerys and a woman who Brienne assumed to be an advisor. When they approached the steps, Selwyn moved towards the small council and Barristan took his place between Brynden and Jaime. 

Whether on account of her nerves or merely the time of day, the babe in Brienne’s belly began to flutter. She was nearing five moons now and had an obvious swell at her belly. Brienne struggled into her armor every day, but it was evident that she could only continue wearing it for a few more weeks before it became impossible.

Ned spoke loudly before Jon. “Your Grace, I present Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Your aunt.”

“His queen.” Daenerys corrected Ned, but the Stark patriarch refused to turn and acknowledge the correction. Jon stood from the throne and smiled warmly.

“Hello. My name is Aegon Targaryen, son of your brother, Rhaegar. I go by Jon however, as my hiding was not overseas, but among the usurper.”

Brienne bit her lip at the words. Tyrion and Olenna had instructed Jon to use certain verbiage in his communication with Daenerys. It was clear that she felt both House Baratheon and Jon to be false kings; and they wanted Jon to declare his Targaryen lineage. 

Daenerys glanced to the woman at her side and nodded slightly. The woman’s voice was warm, but firm. Brienne guessed she was of age to herself and Daenerys, but certainly not older than either. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”

Brienne glanced at Jaime from the corner of her eye. A slight smile tugged at her lips, but Jaime did not share in her amusement at the rather lengthy list of titles. What Brienne saw instead was panic.

Jaime was rigid and staring directly at Daenerys. His eyes were unblinking and his skin pale. Following his eyeline, Brienne took the time to truly appraise Daenerys. She had long silver-gold hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. 

_ Aerys. He sees Aerys.  _

Barristan must have noticed the same. From her place beside Jaime, Brienne could hear Barristan mutter under his breath. 

“Breathe, Jaime.”

Drawing Brienne’s attention back to the purpose of the meeting, Jon’s voice called out. “I daresay you’ve a far more impressive set of titles than my own, though I’m quite curious to learn how you came by some of them. What brings you home, aunt?”

_ Home. Aunt _ . Again, Jon emphasized the words encouraged by Tyrion and Olenna. Brienne glanced towards the side of the room where the small council was positioned. The group stood warily facing Daenerys; their eyes fixed on her and her guards.

“Did you not receive my missive? I’ve come for my throne, though I don’t understand why you sit on it. Lord Selwyn tells me of your self proclaimed lineage, though I must say, you don’t look like a Targaryen to me. It would seem that my half-sister may even boast greater claim than you, though still less than me.”

Daenerys eyes scanned the Kingsguard until they landed on Brienne. Her brows furrowed slightly; the response unnerving Briene. Brienne shifted slightly on her feet and reprimanded herself for not looking more the part.

_ It certainly would have helped validate our claim if I wasn’t so ugly. She’s either horrified by our relation, or now in disbelief of it.  _

As the dragon queen’s eyes appraised Brienne, she took slow steps forward as though trying to see straight through to her soul. At Brienne’s side, she heard Jaime’s breathing quicken and his hand flew to the hilt of his sword. 

Barristan grumbled louder at his side. “Easy, Jaime. Don’t do anything rash.”

At the exchange, Daenerys paused; her eyes moving towards Jaime as she mouthed the name. ‘Jaime’. Brienne could see her placing the name as her eyes darted towards Selwyn. Then a sneer formed at her lips and she turned back to Jaime. “Kingslayer.”

The hate in her voice was evident as she took another step forward. Before Brienne realized it, Brynden and Barristan moved protectively before Jaime, but it was Ned who spoke.

“His name is Ser Jaime Lannister.”

Without taking her eyes off Jaime, Daenerys countered with contempt heavy in her voice. “I’m well-versed on who he is. My brother told me tales of the man who killed my father.  _ His  _ king. Lord Tarth tells me those tales were false, but he also claims that Jon Snow is my nephew. Jon looks rather Northern, and the Kingslayer looks rather guilty.”

Ned took another step forward. “I was the one who gave him the name Kingslayer. I was the one here that day to drag his name through the mud. I labeled him falsely. Your father,  _ Jon’s grandfather _ , was a madman. He would have destroyed this city with wildfire.”

Daenerys’ eyes slowly lifted to Jon. “You claim to be my nephew, yet you would allow your grandfather’s killer to guard your back.”

Descending the steps towards Daenerys, Jon spoke confidently; his voice echoing off the throne room walls. “I proudly have him guard my back. I hope that he affords me the same treatment that he did my grandfather,  _ your father _ , if I threaten to destroy the city and all the people in it.”

Daenerys’ eyes went wide at the words, but it was Littlefinger who spoke. “As I said, your Grace, this boy is little more than a Stark bastard. The boy dishonors your father by speaking out against him. The ugly cow at the Kingslayer’s side can no sooner be Rhaella’s daughter than you could pass for a Stark or Tully.”

At Littlefinger’s remark, several voices moved to defend Brienne, but Daenerys held up a hand and silenced Littlefinger without turning to him. “Do not disparage my kin, Lord Baelish.”

The words startled Brienne. Her eyes were locked on Daenerys as the young woman stepped closer. “You have the pendant?”

Brienne’s eyes darted to Selwyn. Inwardly, Brienne feared that the pendant would be demanded by Rhaella’s legitimate daughter. Swallowing thickly, Brienne nodded and prepared to offer it. Reaching to her neck, Brienne pulled the pendant from under her clothing and armor; letting it rest atop her breastplate. 

_ She can have it if she holds back her army. She can have anything of me if she bends to Jon. _

At the sight of the pendant, Daenerys took a deep breath. Her eyes darted between Brienne and Jon. “Fire cannot kill a dragon. I have some friends that I would have you both meet.”

Baelish began to speak at her back, but Daenerys silenced him once more. “I said, enough.”

Glancing up at Jon, Daenerys shrugged. “Well… lets see how Targaryen the pair of you are. Shall we return to the courtyard?” 

Barristan looked uneasy at the prospect, but they had strength in numbers. Still, Brienne was uncertain. She wondered if this was some trick that would send them into the Stranger’s arms. 

The small council and Barristan began to protest, but Jon spoke over them. “Lead the way.”

As Daenerys began to move from the room, Brienne observed Littlefinger speaking urgently at her side. Whatever was going on, Baelish was not pleased. The fact was strangely reassuring to Brienne, as she knew Littlefinger to be untrustworthy and desiring their blood. 

Before they moved from the room, Barristan grabbed Jaime’s arm. “Go to your room and stay there until I get you.”

“What!? No! Did you see her eyes? She is Aerys reborn.”

Barristan’s tone brokered no argument as he repeated himself. “This is not a question, it is an order. Go to your room and stay there.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne and then dropped to the swell at her belly. With a heavy sigh, Brynden interjected. “There are plenty of us to guard King Jon, and to ensure your wife and babe are safe. Go, Jaime.”

Frustration tugged at Jaime’s features, but he did as he was bid. Storming down the side exit, Jaime’s fast-retreating footsteps were followed by the eyes of the small council. Tyrion’s eyes shone heavy with worry for his older brother, and Brienne couldn’t help but feel the same. 

Jaime’s reaction to Daenerys spoke volumes for his mental state at seeing Aerys’ daughter. Brienne wished she was able to offer him support, but she had to guard Jon and play along with whatever this game was that Daenerys wished to play.

Their group moved into the courtyard with Jon heavily guarded. Daenerys stood in the center staring at the sky. From a point to the west, Brienne saw them approach. Three dragons cried out and descended rapidly towards them. 

Barristan screamed at everyone to guard the king and shield him from any fire the beasts may breathe. Moving before Jon, Brienne stood protectively; her mouth ajar in shock and awe. As the great beasts descended, Daenerys glanced back at them. 

“ _ Sister _ .  _ Nephew _ . Come meet my children. If you are true Targaryens, you should have nothing to fear.”

Barristan shook his head in refute. “This is madness! Your brother, mother, and father didn’t fly about on dragons to prove themselves belonging to House Targaryen! Why should the rest of your kin!?”

A small voice at Brienne’s side lifted into the air. Tyrion’s voice was filled with wonder as he appraised the great beasts. “They have Valyrian blood. I’ve read much about dragons. If they have yet to bond with a rider, they would accept them.”

Brienne took a deep breath and glanced at Jon. “I’ll go first to ensure its safe.”

“What!? No, Brienne. You’re pregnant!” Jon was incredulous as he stared at her. 

From just ahead in the distance, Daenerys turned on heel; her brow raised in question. “Pregnant?”

Unwilling to let Jon try first and risk death by dragonfire, Brienne took rapid steps forward. “What do you want me to do exactly?”

Daenerys eyes lowered to Brienne’s belly. Realization struck as she observed the swell below the breastplate. “I’ve ridden Drogon, but not Viserion and Rhaegal. They will not allow me. They seem… uneasy.”

“They need to bond.” Tyrion called out once more. It was only then that Brienne realized he was following closely. 

Daenerys looked questioningly to Tyrion. “And you are?”

“Lord Tyrion Lannister. Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the west, and Master of Coin. I regret not having more titles to rival yours, but in fairness, I am half your height so having half as many titles seems only fair.”

Daenerys brows furrowed as she seemed uncertain what to make of Tyrion. 

“Brienne. Come back here. Don’t do this.” Barristan called out as the rest of the Kingsguard held back Jon. Shaking her head, Brienne stared at Daenerys. “What do I do?”

“Approach them.”

_ Gods help me. Please don’t eat me or burn me to death. Please don’t let them hurt my babe.  _

Doing as she was bid, Brienne ignored the desperate pleas at her back. Selwyn and Jon were the loudest, but Barristan’s warning tone sounded prepared to run one of the dragon’s through with his sword. Nearing the dragons, they cried out and shifted uncomfortably. 

Brienne felt her heart rate increase tenfold. Slowing her steps, Brienne stood tall and summoned all the courage she had. With a protective hand on her swell, Brienne reached out with her free hand. Surprisingly, one of the dragons lurched forward. His snout pushed hard against Brienne’s hand and his nostrils flared. 

The beast let out a deep cry which blew back Brienne’s hair and made her legs tremble. Thinking herself doomed, Brienne was surprised when the dragon lowered it’s head and sniffed her body. 

“Gods. It’s true.”

Daenerys' voice was a whisper at Brienne’s back. Glancing over her shoulder, Brienne met Daenerys’ surprised eyes. “Now what?”

Before Daenerys could respond, Jon pushed through the guards. “Let me go! I’ll not leave her out there alone!”

Moving forward with purpose, yet cautiously, Jon stared at the dragon as he approached Brienne. Tyrion cried out. “No! This one seems to have chosen her. Don’t go near it. Go to the third.”

As Jon slowly approached the third dragon, Tyrion spoke urgently at Daenerys' side. “This is absurd. Just having Targaryen blood is not always enough. Many Targaryens have been killed trying to mount dragons!”

Daenerys ignored Tyrion’s words as she watched in awe. As happened with Brienne, the third dragon tentatively sniffed Jon and allowed the king’s hand to travel across his snout. 

Brienne watched as Daenerys' eyes misted slightly. “I’m not the last one. I’m not alone.”

Jon’s voice was uncertain as he called out questioningly. “Uh… is he? What is he doing?”

Brienne turned towards Jon and bit back a laugh as the dragon appeared to be licking Jon rather aggressively. At Brienne’s back, a youthful laugh pushed past Daenerys’ lips. “He quite likes you. That’s Rhaegal. I named him after my brother…  _ your father _ .”

Daenerys’ eyes settled on Brienne. “That is Viserion. I named him after my other brother,  _ our brother _ .”

Glancing at the dragon, Brienne smiled and spoke nervously. “That’s nice. Can we perhaps go inside now?”

The question snapped Daenerys from whatever trance she had fallen into. As memories retreated from her eyes, Daenerys’ face steeled once more. “I would like to speak with you both. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

Jon stepped backwards and away from Rhaegal who seemed displeased to have lost his new friend. He nudged Jon in the ass, nearly knocking him over. Brienne snorted at the sight before collecting herself. 

Wiping his breeches of whatever fluids had leaked from Rhaegal’s snout, Jon spoke quietly. “Yes, lets go to my study. I think we have much to discuss.”

As they began to walk towards the Keep, Brienne halted her progress just feet from the shocked-looking Kingsguard, Gold Cloaks, and small council. Both Jon and Daenerys turned in question, but Brienne’s eyes were fixed across the city. 

Pointing into the distance, Brienne spoke to Daenerys. “Do you see that crater atop the Hill of Rhaenys?”

Daenerys followed Brienne’s finger and she nodded in confirmation. At her acknowledgement, Brienne looked to Daenerys before glancing at Barristan and Ned. “The Dragonpit once stood there. Cersei Lannister found caches of the wildfire that your father had placed throughout the city. She used it to kill thousands; innocent and perceived enemies. Ser Jaime stopped your father, my uncle, from doing that to the entire city. Over a year ago, Ser Jaime led the West against his twin sister to ensure she was stopped from continuing such destruction. He is my husband.  _ Your  _ goodbrother. You should be proud.”


	59. Brienne XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jon speak privately with Daenerys. Afterwards, Daenerys wishes to speak with Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I neglected to mention in the last chapter... while I've kept everyone book age in this fic rather than TV age, I did age up Missandei. No real reason other than I loved Nathalie Emmanuel's aged up portrayal of Missandei and wanted to keep her closer in age to Dany and Brienne.
> 
> Warning: There is some graphic violence near the end.

“So you were raised as a bastard, despite being trueborn. And you were raised as a trueborn, despite being a bastard?”

Daenerys glanced between Jon and Brienne; the pair laughing lightly at the statement. “Aye, Lord Stark couldn’t tell me the truth of it. King Robert would have killed me, just as he would have killed Brienne if her true lineage was revealed.”

With a heavy sigh, Daenerys shook her head. “I didn’t intend to be so cool in greeting, but I’ve spent my life in exile with only one source of truth. I thought that I was the last of my House. It’s nice to not feel so alone.”

Brienne nodded in understanding. “What happened to Viserys?”

The look in Daenerys eyes indicated it was not a pleasant tale. She glanced to the side and tapped the table as though trying to find the words.

“He was all that I had, but it was difficult at times. Everything was driven by his need to reclaim what was stolen from us. Nothing could stop him from trying to achieve the goal; even going so far as to sell me to a Khal to raise an army of Dothraki warriors. He grew bitter and angry, but also incredibly impatient. There was a madness to him in a way, but I never knew what to make of it. He called it ‘waking the dragon’. Half the time I thought he hated me, but the other half he loved me. In a way, I think he blamed me for our mother’s death. She died birthing me.”

Brienne’s heart broke for the young woman who had clearly endured much across the Narrow Sea. “My father’s wife died birthing twin daughters. Ser Jaime’s mother died birthing Lord Tyrion. Lady Lyanna died birthing Jon. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon. You shouldn’t fault yourself for it.”

The words aimed to console Daenerys, but in the process, a slight fear ran down Brienne’s spine as she looked to the swell at her belly. Swallowing thickly, Brienne looked up and forced a smile.

Brienne’s words seemed to offer some comfort to Daenerys. She nodded in reply, but then her brows furrowed. “Lord Tyrion. He’s the one who spoke about the dragons, correct?”

Jon and Brienne exchanged knowing smiles. Tyrion never seemed to lack knowledge of anything, but he had a particular obsession with dragons and the prospect of seeing one.

“Aye. He was the only one excited at the prospect of you bringing them here. After a small council meeting the other week, he told us that he wanted one as a nameday gift when he was a boy. He asked his uncle for one.”

Daenerys hummed at the words. “I don’t imagine he received his wish.”

Brienne bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. She recalled Tyrion’s telling of the tale; her eyes darting to Jon who was also biting back laughter.

“He said his family laughed at the request as though it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard, and his father told him that the last dragon died a century ago. That night, he cried himself to sleep. His crying must have been quite loud. Apparently, Ser Jaime climbed his balcony the next night dressed as one and pretended to take Tyrion’s commands. He let Tyrion climb on his back while he ran up and down the halls pretending to breathe fire on everything. Tyrion said it was all quite fun until he accidently twisted the helm on Jaime’s head; unintentionally blinding him. They fell down the stairs. Broke a few bones.”

Brienne snorted at the vision the tale had conjured when she first heard it. She and Brynden had been on guard that day, and Barristan shared the tale as he left the small council meeting. They enjoyed teasing Jaime at supper that night. He was good natured about it, though Jaime insisted that he was a far better dragon than whatever nonsense Daenerys would bring across the sea.

Having seen the great beasts now, Brienne was not so certain. _A close second, I’m certain._

Daenerys guffawed at the tale; her dainty hand flying to her mouth. “Not quite the vision that I had in my head of the dastardly Kingslayer. He seems slightly more human now.”

“Yes, well we find such tales help us keep him grounded. His ego is as untamed as your dragons; perhaps worse.” Jon spoke lightly at Daenerys’ side.

The young woman’s face fell at the comment. “I should like to speak with him when we’re done here.”

Brienne nodded in understanding; a small smirk on her face. “Ser Barristan sent him off to bed without supper, but he’s certain to be sulking in the White Sword Tower somewhere. I’ll take you there after.”

With a deep breath, Daenerys nodded in agreement. The expression on her face was one of uncertainty when she looked back to Jon. “I wish to come home now. I’ve tried finding home across the sea, but I felt called here.”

“I understand the desire to find home and family. I could offer you Dragonstone. As you noticed upon landing there, it is currently unoccupied, and technically the seat of our House. Perhaps you could take on the role of Warden of the East. The title was held by Lord Jon Arryn, and it should pass to his son, Lord Robin Arryn, but… I question his ability.”

Brienne considered the offer fair. Wardens were intended to call the banners on behalf of their region in times of war. It appeared that Daenerys’ army was almost the strength of all Seven Kingdoms.

The suggestion pleased the young woman and her eyes lit up. “I would like that. Thank you. Perhaps I can frequent you both here in King’s Landing. It would be nice to have some family, and I would like to get to know the kingdoms.”

Nodding in agreement, Jon smiled warmly. “Of course. If you’re curious to learn more of your older brother and mother, I would recommend Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. They’ve shared quite a few tales of each. Lord Selwyn knew your mother _quite_ well, though you likely know that given your visit with him.”

Daenerys' eyes darted to Brienne as she spoke. “Yes. He shared some letters as well. It’s nice to see that memory of her lives on in others.” Lowering her eyes to the swell at Brienne’s belly, a smile tugged at Daenerys’ lips. “And I imagine those memories will be passed on to the next generation.”

They spoke a while longer with Jon sharing the looming threat to the north. He discussed the alliance with the Free Folk, and the preparations they would eventually need to make. When at last they decided to return to the larger group, Daenerys turned to Brienne.

“I would like to speak with your husband. It would seem that my goodbrother and I started off poorly. Beyond my words… he looked at me strangely.”

Nodding stiffly, Brienne sought to provide enough context without betraying Jaime’s trust. “Your father did things that were difficult to watch. Unlike the other Kingsguard, Jaime was only a boy and I think it troubled him more than most.”

Hoping the information sufficient, Brienne watched as Daenerys nodded slowly. “I hear that I have my father’s features. Perhaps in time, he will come to see that I am not him.” Something clouded Daenerys’ eyes and she looked questioningly at Brienne.

“They say he was mad. I don’t know that I’m ready to hear all that he did, but I would like to understand the signs of his madness. Sometimes when I’m upset I… something feels off. A bit of a disconnect from my normal line of thinking. Do you ever feel that?”

_Gods. How do I answer that?_

“No, though I imagine everyone deals with strong emotions differently. I take to the yards when upset.”

Daenerys nodded slowly; worry heavy on her features. “It hasn’t always been this way for me. I noticed it more in recent years. It will do me some good to be around all of you. To have family and people who knew my parents; the good and the bad. I don’t want to become like my father and Viserys.”

The women fell into step beside one another. Their feet carried them towards the White Sword Tower. At their back, two men and the young woman from earlier followed. Sensing the question in Brienne’s mind, Daenerys smiled.

Extending her arm backwards, Daenerys provided introductions. “This is Missandei. She is originally from Naath, but we met in Yunkai. She had been enslaved there and was used as a translator. Across the Narrow Sea, she was the closest that I’ve felt to kinship.”

Brienne smiled warmly at the woman and nodded. “Hello. I’m Brienne Lannister of Tarth.”

The woman smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, I met your father on Tarth. He is… quite impressive.”

_Oh gods. I can only imagine._

“Did he ramble on about the island and show you both the gardens?”

The women exchanged smirks and nodded. Daenerys’ voice was filled with mirth when she replied. “Yes, and nearly half a day later, we received the tour inside the Keep… then we discussed matters.”

Humming in understanding, Brienne returned their smirk. “Yes, he’s quite proud of Tarth. He thinks the castle grounds and island far more pleasant than any holding on the mainland. I’ve had to accompany him on such tours when vassals visited. My legs are still sore from the effort.”

Pointing back at the other men, Daenerys smiled warmly, and her cheeks pinked. “This is Daario Naharis; commander of the Second Sons. Beside him is Grey Worm; commander of the Unsullied.”

As they moved towards the White Sword Tower, Brienne made idle conversation with the men. She was surprised to learn that Daario was from an island as well; Tyrosh. Smiling at Daenerys, Brienne spoke lightly.

“I’m partial to islanders. You’ve done well to surround yourself with a couple.”

They soon arrived at the White Sword Tower. Brienne gave them the history of it and the tradition of the Kingsguard. All four were curious and asked many questions which excited Brienne. It wasn’t often she found others to share in her interest for orders such as the Kingsguard, but the group was very engaged.

Moving towards her room, Brienne was surprised to find it vacant. “Ser Barristan must have come to retrieve him. They’re likely together in his study.”

Brienne’s eyes landed on the corner table and her brows furrowed. “That’s odd.”

Stepping into the room, Brienne walked towards a basket of apples which had been set down. There was a small note on the table which she picked up to read. A small smile stretched across her face.

_‘I’m pleased to meet you sister. I look forward to getting to know you. – Queen Daenerys’_

Picking up an apple, Brienne smiled and nodded. “Thank you for the apples! I quite enjoy fruit, though I’ll have to fight Jaime for them. Apples are his favorite. Would any of you like one?”

Brienne raised the apple to her mouth to take a bit, but Daenerys screamed; her arm stretching out to halt Brienne. “No!”

As she spoke, Grey Worm lunged forward and smacked the fruit from Brienne’s hand. Confusion gripped Brienne’s features as she stared at the man.

Daenerys rushed forward and grabbed the letter; her eyes wild with fear. “Grey Worm. Daario. Go find Lord Baelish and have him detained!” 

Without hesitating, the men rushed from the room. Their footsteps retreated off the walls of the hallway as they moved quickly from the tower.

“What’s going on?”

Daenerys looked slowly to Brienne at the question. “Where did you say Ser Jaime would be?”

Brienne felt her heart quicken and fear set in. Looking to the apple on the floor, she felt the danger before it could be voiced. Without responding, she moved quickly from the room and towards Barristan’s office. Missandei and Daenerys followed closely at her back as Brienne ascended the stairs.

Then she heard Barristan screaming.

As Brienne ascended the steps, Brynden came rushing down the stairs. The Blackfish was screaming for the maester as he ran; his eyes frantic as he passed Brienne. When Brienne’s eyes followed his retreat and landed on Daenerys, she saw a deep guilt.

“I told Lord Baelish not to use poison, but he did this in Meereen.”

Brienne ran up the remainder of the stairs. At her back, Brienne heard Daenerys ask Missandei to follow the Kingsguard and bring the healer word of the poison used. As Brienne moved closer towards Barristan’s study, she heard him screaming Jaime’s name repeatedly.

Running into the room, Brienne stopped in the doorway and gasped. Jaime was on the floor in Barristan’s arms. His eyes were rolled back in his head and mere feet from his body, an apple lay partially eaten on the floor. From the doorway, Brienne could see his breathing was labored, and his color drained.

Barristan was frantic as he looked up at her in despair. “He was fine. I don’t know what happened. He went ashen and started swaying on his feet. Gods… he won’t come to.”

“Poison. We need to get it out. The apple.” Daenerys was at Brienne’s back and moving past her into the room.

The words shocked Barristan as he glanced towards the discarded apple. Brienne moved into the room and collapsed at Barristan’s side. Without hesitating, Brienne shoved her fingers down Jaime’s throat to try and force him to vomit up the apple.

Despite being unconscious, Jaime’s body responded to the invasion of her fingers. Barristan rolled Jaime to his side, ensuring he wouldn’t choke. Pieces of apple and bile spilled onto the floor. Frantically glancing at the apple, Brienne could see that it wasn’t enough.

_Breathe, Jaime. Please. Keep breathing. Come back to me._

Brienne’s eyes were wild with fear as she shoved her finger down Jaime’s throat again. Twice more, Brienne purged his stomach until there was nothing left to bring up. The rug on Barristan’s floor was covered in vomit as Brienne fished through his mouth for remaining pieces.

_Please. Please don’t leave me, Jaime._

A lifetime seemed to pass before Brynden returned. His face was pale as he appraised Jaime’s unconscious body. Barristan continued holding Jaime on his lap; Jaime’s body angled on the right side as Brienne tried to shake Jaime awake. Silent tears streamed down her face as his breathing grew shallow and ragged.

“The girl… she’s telling the maester what the poison was. He’s making an antidote.”

Daenerys knelt by them apologizing profusely. “He wanted him dead. I’m sorry. I told him not to. I didn’t know he would do this; that he would defy me.”

Tears fell onto Jaime’s cheek and Brienne wiped at her face only to realize it wasn’t her tears that dropped onto Jaime. Looking up, she saw Barristan’s own face coated in tears. He looked as broken as Brienne felt. Shaking his head in disbelief, Barristan looked to Daenerys.

“What? Who?”

“Lord Baelish. In Essos, he said the Kingslayer meant to take the throne for himself by wedding my false sister. Poison. Lord Baelish suggested poison, but I refused. I wanted… I wanted to win my way. Fire and blood. He had the poison already though. He used it on a man who meant to harm me, and he said he has used it in the past. Tears of Lys.”

Brienne watched as Barristan’s eyes went wide. “It was him. He killed Jon Arryn.”

“What?” Brienne was confused as she looked between Daenerys and Barristan. Looking down at Jaime, Barristan’s eyes filled with rage and despair. “Varys told Ned that it was Tears of Lys used to kill Jon Arryn. The Starks… they received a missive from Lysa placing blame on the Lannisters. Baelish…”

Rage consumed Barristan. Gripping Jaime’s unconscious body close, Barristan screamed. “I’ll kill that craven myself! Tear him apart for this! Where is the bloody maester!?”

Brienne had never seen Barristan so enraged, but she felt it too. She was torn between holding Jaime close, and leaving to find Littlefinger herself. Loud footsteps and voices echoed off the walls outside the room moments before Maester Harmon ran into the room with a vial in hand.

“How long ago?”

Barristan’s chin quivered as he watched the maester pour the liquid down Jaime’s throat. “Not even half an hour ago. Brienne got up a good deal of it.”

The maester’s eyes darted to the floor. “It’s not enough. This should get it all… gods willing.”

_Gods willing? What the fuck does that mean!?_

With the contents of the vial in Jaime’s belly, the maester looked back to Daenerys and Missandi. “The poison… how strong? Do you have a sense?”

Daenerys eyes were fixed on Jaime as she spoke; her voice a whisper. “I don’t know. The last man he used it on… He stopped breathing before we called for the healer. I hadn’t known. I didn’t know Lord Baelish tainted the drink until after. It only took moments.”

The maester closed his eyes for a moment before looking to Brienne and Barristan. “If this works, he’ll be unwell for some days. I need to keep purging his stomach and make something to counteract its effect on the body.”

Within moments, Jaime was once more vomiting onto the floor. The maester nodded and hummed; seemingly pleased by the result. When Jaime began dry heaving after that, the maester put a steadying hand on Jaime’s arm and nodded.

Maester Harmon placed his fingers at Jaime’s throat. He grimaced slightly and sighed.

“He needs rest now. This poison was quite strong. I’ll make another solution to help his body fight this, but we should have gotten most of it in time. Had you not removed much of this before I arrived, I fear the result. Now… we wait and see.”

Brienne couldn’t move. The love of her life lay lifeless in Barristan’s arms; a pool of vomit on the rug and a half-eaten apple feet away. Approaching footsteps caught Brienne’s attention. Glancing up, she saw the Blackfish bend down and reach for Jaime.

“Give him here. We’ll take him downstairs.”

It was only then that Brienne saw the Hound in the doorway; his eyes wide and shocked at the scene before him. Slowly, Sandor stepped into the room and stood by Brynden.

Barristan didn’t move. His grip tightened and he shook his head in refute. With a heavy sigh, Brynden grabbed Barristan’s shoulder. “You have to let go. We’ll move him downstairs, then we’ll retrieve Petyr.”

At the mention of Littlefinger, Barristan loosened his grip on Jaime. “I’ll retrieve LIttlefinger myself. Then I’ll return him in pieces.”

Jaime was lifted by Brynden and the Hound and carried from the room. Brienne felt numb as she stood to follow. As she passed, Daenerys apologized again, but Brienne just wanted Jaime. She paused at the door to glance back. Barristan was still on the floor staring at his empty arms.

“Ser Barristan…”

“I failed him again. I… I sent him back here alone. I told him...” He spoke more to himself than Brienne. Muttered words followed, but Brienne could not understand them.

Brienne wanted to console Barristan and offer reassurance, but she felt outside of her body. The only thing that could bring her back to herself was a pair of green eyes.

“You didn’t fail him.”

It was all she could offer before leaving. The descent to her room felt interminable. Everything seemed darker than before; the hallway, the room, the world.

Brynden was stepping from the room as Brienne entered. They had placed Jaime on one side of the bed with the chamber pot nearby.

“I’ll have the staff send up something larger should he vomit more.”

A warm hand to her shoulder was the last thing Brienne noticed before Brynden was gone. She removed her armor and collapsed into the bed beside Jaime. She curled up close to Jaime and nestled her head against his neck. An overwhelming need to listen to Jaime breathe consumed Brienne.

For hours, Brienne refused to sleep. She was afraid that she would wake up pressed close against a cold corpse. In that time, the staff entered to drop off a larger bucket. The maester returned with a different concoction meant to aid Jaime’s body in its struggle to live.

Others came by too. Jon was the first to visit; his eyes wide in shock and worry. “I’m so sorry, Brienne. Barristan found me and asked for my blessing to deliver justice on behalf of the crown. He and Brynden went to find Littlefinger. The guards said Littlefinger left the Keep not long after you, Daenerys, and me spoke in private.”

Tyrion was next to visit. He ran into the room as though the Stranger was at his heels. “Jaime!”

The younger brother rounded the bed and reached out for Jaime’s face. Brienne didn’t have the strength to talk. Instead, she remained close to Jaime and focused harder on his breathing. Tyrion pulled up a chair and rested his head against the bed. There was a strange comfort in having Tyrion close. They lay beside Jaime in companionable silence.

Ned was next to visit the room. He moved slowly as though seeing a ghost. When he neared Tyrion’s side, Ned reached over the bed and placed a hand on Jaime’s chest as though checking to see if he was breathing.

Brienne knew it was late judging by the moonlight pouring in from the window. The Stark patriarch sighed and removed his hand from Jaime’s chest; leaning onto the bed as he collected his words.

“I thought it was him that did this to Jon. Him or Cersei or both. _Before_ of course. Before I truly knew him. Daenerys’ men haven’t seen Littlefinger since he passed through the gates and rode north. Littlefinger tried to ignite a battle. He said the queen’s life was in danger at the Keep, and at his orders, fighting broke out. Grey Worm and Daario called them off, but we lost some men. I imagine he’s gone north to hide.”

_The Vale. He’ll likely go crawling back to Lysa for protection._

Brienne held Jaime tighter. She knew her body was in need of food, but Brienne couldn’t honor its request. Until Jaime was awake, she didn’t want to move or eat.

_Please come back. Please. I need you. Our babe needs you._

Night turned to day, and Brienne refused to move. Tyrion had fallen asleep with his head on the bed, and Ned continued to visit throughout the night to check on Jaime. At two points, the maester came to bring Jaime more medicine to counteract the poison. Brienne’s sworn brothers visited to check on Jaime, but there had been no change.

In the morning sun, Brienne assessed Jaime’s coloring. There was not much change from the day before, but his breathing wasn’t as shallow. A light sweat dotted his brow and his skin was far too sickly looking for Brienne’s taste.

Then Brienne saw a figure enter the doorway. Lifting her head, Brienne saw Barristan in his armor. He was covered in blood and looking weary as ever. Moving slowly into the room, Barristan chucked his armor to the floor and rounded the bed towards Tyrion who was snoring softly near Jaime’s pillow.

When Barristan reached out for Jaime’s head with his right hand, Brienne noticed his knuckles. They were swollen and caked in dry blood. The aged knight leaned his head against Jaime’s as his left-hand clutched Jaime’s tunic. Quiet sobs filled the room as Barristan muttered an apology.

Brienne was too tired and despondent to reply. Moving her hand from around Jaime’s waist, she grabbed Barristan’s left hand and squeezed. For a time, neither of them moved. Brienne continued listening to Jaime’s shallow breathing. 

When Barristan left, it was a wordless departure. Tyrion eventually awoke and tracked down a maid to have food sent up. He insisted that Brienne eat something, but she struggled to find the desire. Still, she would try. The babe in her belly needed her _and_ Jaime.

_What if Jaime doesn’t survive this and I’m all the babe has?_

The maester returned again. He seemed both disappointed and unsurprised that Jaime was still unconscious.

“You need to keep your energy up, Ser. That babe needs you, and you don’t appear to have slept. Please, try. I imagine Ser Jaime will be asleep for some time longer.”

Brienne soon fell asleep after taking a few bites of the food that Tyrion had called for. When she awoke, Brynden was leaning against the wall as though on guard duty. He smiled softly as Brienne sat upright and appraised the room. Judging by the lighting, it was late afternoon.

“Daenerys came by once or twice. Ned and King Jon just as many times. I sent Myrcella and Tommen away though. I didn’t think they should see him like this.”

Byrnden pushed off the wall and walked towards the bed. “I only just convinced Lord Tyrion to leave. He missed lunch while staring at the pair of you all afternoon.”

Brienne sighed at the words and glanced down at Jaime. The bed shifted slightly as Brynden sat on the end. He sighed and stared ahead at the wall before turning to look at Brienne.

“Littlefinger is _quite_ dead. I doubt Barristan bothered to say much about it.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed; her eyes glancing at Jaime. “He didn’t say much at all. He only… he kept apologizing.”

Brynden rubbed at his face and appraised Jaime. “When you, Jon, and Daenerys took quite some time to speak privately, we came back to the tower. Barristan was worried about Jaime’s reaction to Daenerys. When we found him, someone had just dropped off that fucking basket of apples. Jaime read the note and wanted to chuck the bloody things out the window. Of course, Barristan told him to calm down and stop assuming the worst without getting to know the girl. Barristan suggested that perhaps she was more Rhaella than Aerys.”

After hearing Brynden’s words, Brienne understood Barristan’s guilt. As Brienne recalled Barristan’s pained cries and declared failing, she listened as Brynden sighed loudly. 

“Jaime grumbled about it, but he relented. He said, ‘Fine, but I’m not sharing the apples with the pair of you.’ The three of us walked to Barristan’s office. Barristan wanted to tell him about the dragons. We thought he might get a rise out of it.”

Brynden shook his head and groaned in frustration. “That gods damned apple. You know how Jaime loves the things. He just kept munching away. When we started telling him about you and that bloody dragon, he looked _off_. He got all pale and sweaty. His eyes were unfocused. Barristan thought he was overreacting again. He tried to tell Jaime that you were fine; no harm befell you or the babe. Jaime only stood from his chair and swayed; his eyes all glazed over. I didn’t know what was wrong, but Barristan ran around the desk and caught him before he fell. Well… you know the rest.”

Brynden looked away and took a deep breath. “Barristan went insane when we caught up to Littlefinger. We had the hounds after the miserable shit, and Petyr hadn’t gotten much of a head start. Barristan tackled Petyr to the ground from atop their horses. Then he started punching and punching. I’ve never seen a man so enraged. You could hear the bones in Petyr’s face breaking.”

Brynden grimaced and exhaled loudly. “I’ve known Petyr since he was a boy. Part of me thought to intercede, but… Petyr did this to himself. Barristan was a proper Stormlander and Petyr caught in the eye of the storm. We had to… we pulled Barristan off eventually. There was nothing left to beat. Just… a puddle of flesh, brain, and broken bones.”

Taking a deep breath, Brynden muttered his last words. “This boy better wake up, or we may find ourselves down two brothers.”


	60. Jaime XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has strange visions while unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! I hope 2021 is a better year for all! I hope everyone stays healthy and safe following this holiday season.

Voices passed through Jaime’s mind as quickly as the visions in sleep. Whether he was dead or alive, Jaime could not discern. All he knew were the voices in between visions. Jaime heard Brienne call out, begging him not to leave her. It was Brienne he dreamed of most of all.

Jaime dreamed of chasing Brienne through the fields at the Rock. Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth as she glanced back at him; the swell at her belly just showing as she turned to meet his arms. In every dream, something changed in her eyes. Brienne looked over his shoulder in fear, and as Jaime turned to follow her gaze, he saw a creature not of their world with piercing blue eyes. Before he could move to protect Brienne, the vision was gone, and he was back in the darkness.

In some visions, Jaime could feel the arctic temperature that mirrored the landscape around him. Through a snowsquall, Jaime could sense the presence of others, but there was an eerie quiet to the landscape despite the winds and snow. Someone called out to him, but the voice came from all directions. The voice did not sound of his world, but rather like the voice of many blended together. If he listened hard enough, he could make out several people in that one voice. Before he could call out to them, the vision faded away.

In other visions, Jaime was at the tower at Winterfell. The entire holding appeared lost to the world; rundown and forgotten. He stood at the same point at the outer gates where he once found Brienne dangling above. A babe’s cry from above encouraged him upward, but the climb was interminable. Every step he took, the window seemed further away.

Then Jaime had a vision unlike the others. He was with Bran Stark near a tree that sparkled with red leaves in the winter sun. It stood out in stark contrast to the snow fields at their feet.

_ “Bran! Your family has been looking for you. Where have you been?” _

_ The young boy offered a small smile; his voice teasing as he replied. “Not calling me ‘Little Ned’ anymore?” _

_ A cold chill ran down Jaime’s spine as the wind cut through the open field. “Am I dead?” _

_ “Almost.” _

_ The reply was strange, but given everything else that Jaime was experiencing, it hardly seemed unbelievable. Glancing around the area, Jaime noticed the same shadows that had followed him in prior visions. There always seemed to be an otherworldly presence in his visions. _

_ “Where am I?” _

_ “Don’t worry. You’re safe in bed at the Red Keep. It is only your mind that wandered; not your body.” Bran paused and glanced around. His eyes appraised the distant figure just as Jaime’s had. “They’re following me, and I’ve been following you. You’ve been a bit preoccupied in sleep.” _

_ The hint of a smile tugged at Bran’s lips before he set his gaze back on Jaime. With a question in his eyes, Jaime spoke slowly. “I… I don’t understand.” _

_ “You’ve been thinking of Brienne and it’s been a bit difficult to get your attention. You’ll need to wake up soon and I need you to understand.” _

_ Before Jaime could question what Bran meant, he took slow steps forward. Despite being so young, Bran appeared taller and more mature than Jaime recalled. There was a change in Bran’s eyes that reflected a lifetime of knowledge. Jaime shuddered slightly and glanced over Bran’s shoulders. The figures appeared closer than before, and through the heavy fog, Jaime could see bright blue eyes staring at them. _

_ Bran leaned in close and whispered. “Valyrian steel, fire, and dragonglass can defeat them. Warn the others. Dragonglass needs to be mined from Dragonstone. You need to find your ancestral sword. Brienne needs to find hers.” _

_ “Your father’s sword is split in two. We have Valyrian steel.” Jaime’s brows furrowed as he looked to his hip, but no weapons were there. _

_ Shaking his head, Bran’s eyes darted back to the figures. They were closer now and Jaime felt vulnerable as they were slowly being surrounded. More eyes appeared than had been there before. _

_ “My father will fight with one half of Ice, and Robb with the other half. They must wield Ice together. Brightroar is in the ruins of Valyria. You must look in the third topless tower. Take the dragons to recover the sword, but be careful. There is great danger there. Dark Sister must be wielded by Brienne. It was forged for the hand of a warrior woman like Visenya. Bloodraven was the last to wield it, but he went beyond the Wall. He left the blade with Maester Aemon and told him it must stay hidden for its rightful owner; the blue-eyed princess with the dragon pendant. Rhaella’s daughter. Like you, the Bloodraven dreamed of blue eyes; two pairs. One of death and one of life. Take Jon with you and Aemon will relinquish the sword.” _

_ The words were strange, and Jaime wanted to ask many questions. Then he glanced over Bran’s shoulders and saw living corpses. They stood motionless and staring. Their eyes were bright blue, but they felt like death. _

_ Jaime could sense the threat that the figures posed. He kept an eye on them as he reached out for Bran; his intent to carry the young boy to safety. _

_ “Bran. We can’t…” _

_ Hands grabbed at Jaime’s jerkin and captured his attention. Bran shoved hard into Jaime’s chest; his voice loud as the air left Jaime’s lungs. “Wake up.” _

Jaime awoke with a gasp. His eyes struggled to adjust as light shone in from the windows. A sharp pain in Jaime’s abdomen radiated throughout his body as he tried to sit upright. Hands pushed down on Jaime’s shoulders, and a perfect pair of blue eyes came into view.

“Jaime!” Brienne’s voice was the sweetest sound to ever grace Jaime’s ears. When he thought himself dying in Barristan’s arms, all Jaime could think of was Brienne and their unborn babe.

Try as he might to call out for Brienne that day, Jaime couldn’t find his voice. He could hardly breathe, and Jaime had felt an incredible panic ripple through him at the thought of never seeing her again. Now as he stared up at her teary eyes, Jaime could only smile.

Her mouth was moving as she called out to someone at his side, but Jaime was in a daze. His fingers reached up for her face and stroked her jaw as Brienne’s eyes followed the retreating figure.

Glancing towards the door, Jaime saw Tyrion’s curly hair fleeing the room. It was then that Jaime realized the room had other occupants in it. The concerned eyes of Myrcella and Tommen came into view as Aerys’ daughter stood at their backs.

Fear gripped Jaime as he stared into the young woman’s violet eyes. He tried to scream, but his voice was parched and sore. All he could see in that moment was Aerys. Aerys and wildfire.

His eyes must have betrayed his inner thoughts as Brienne’s voice soothed him. “It’s alright, Jaime. She means you no harm. Daenerys and her friends helped identify the poison. Littlefinger did this.”

_ Littlefinger? What is going on? How long have I been unconscious?  _

A small hand slipped into Jaime’s and tears coated Myrcella’s eyes as she squeezed his fingers. “We thought you were going to die. Well… we thought you did die.”

_ It certainly felt that way. _

Brienne was speaking over Jaime’s head again and asking for the glass of water on the table. Violet eyes retreated before returning with a cup in hand. Brienne guided the cup to Jaime’s lips and lifted his head to help him drink the cool liquid.

“Do you feel nauseous? The maester said you might.”

Shaking his head in refute, Jaime greedily drank the water. It felt as though the liquid was dousing a fire which had been burning for days. A searing pain stretched up the column of Jaime’s neck and he grimaced at the sensation.

The pain seemed inconsequential when Jaime felt Brienne’s face bury into his neck. Warm tears rolled between their skin as she spoke quietly into his ear. “I thought I lost you. I thought  _ we _ lost you.”

_ We. Our babe. _

Jaime’s hand reached for the swell at Brienne’s belly. Relief flooded Jaime as he inhaled deeply and rubbed Brienne’s belly with his thumb. Her hand covered his and sent a warmth through Jaime’s body. Any chill he felt in sleep was pushed away by the feel of Brienne’s hand atop his.

When Brienne’s lips grazed his own, Jaime smiled into her touch. The expression was not returned by Brienne; her lips were downturn and her eyes sorrowful. 

“What’s wrong? Is the babe alright?” Panic coursed through Jaime as his eyes lowered to her swell. He reached out as though a simple touch would afford the answer, but Brienne only shook her head.

“The babe is fine. I just… it was awful. I thought you were dead. You were just lifeless and these past days… we weren’t certain if you would fully recover. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

The words were like being thrown into turbulent seas. It had been Jaime’s greatest fear when he realized he couldn’t breathe, and his entire body felt as though it was slowly shutting down. Then a thought hit him.

_ The apples. What if Brienne ate one first? She could have died. Our babe could have died. _

Sensing his mounting panic, Brienne grabbed his face between her hands. She smiled and leaned down to embrace him. “You’re alright now. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

It wasn’t long after that the maester returned with Tyrion. He began asking numerous questions after getting him into a seated position. More than anything, Jaime’s stomach hurt.

“I had to purge you of the poison. It’s not surprising that your throat and stomach are in such pain. Eat bread today, but slowly. Your body is still recovering. We caught the poison in enough time that you should not suffer any long-term effect on your organs. If your wife did not act so quickly, such an outcome would likely not be.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne as she stood beside Daenerys. The sight of the woman he loved standing beside Aerys’ daughter sent another jolt of panic through him.

“How long was I out?”

Since waking up, Jaime did not speak much. Trying to form words was painful, and the effort proved exhausting. Jaime felt as though he had not taken rest in weeks.

“Four days. I had to give you some concoctions that had a sedative effect, but I needed to ensure the poison had cleared your body.”

As the maester finished his exam, fast-moving footsteps from the hallway caught Jaime’s attention. Turning towards the sound, Jaime saw Barristan reach the doorway and move quickly into the room. His features were lined with worry and his body tense until he met Jaime’s eyes. The lord commander’s body seemed to release an unseen weight when he observed Jaime awake and sitting upright.

Slowing his steps, Barristan approached and stammered an apology. It made little sense to Jaime, but he didn’t have time to question it before he found himself engulfed by Barristan. The older knight kept mumbling a pained apology into Jaime’s head as Barristan held Jaime firm against his chest.

From Barristan’s back, the maester gave instruction to someone, but Jaime couldn’t tell who.

“He should rest today and tomorrow. After that, he should be fine to return to his usual training and duties.”

Brienne’s voice was quiet when she questioned the maester’s instructions for care. “And food?”

“Today very little. Bread mostly and plenty of water. Nothing hard on the stomach. Tomorrow he can eat whatever he likes if he’s feeling up to it.”

“No apples.” Barristan’s voice was muffled on Jaime’s head.

At the mention of apples, Jaime snorted and rolled his eyes. If he was presented with an apple to eat within the next year, it would feel a lifetime too soon. Barristan released Jaime and stepped back to appraise his face. As the older knight’s hands came to Jaime’s shoulders, Jaime saw the bandages.

“What happened to your hand?”

Removing his right hand from view and putting it behind his back, Barristan shrugged as though the matter inconsequential. “Training yards. Nothing major.”

The older knight’s words caused the maester to turn away from Brienne and towards Barristan in confusion. “Lord Commander… the yards? Have you been training? I told you that the fractures needed to heal before you resumed training.”

Barristan waved him off quickly. “No, no. I wasn’t. I’ve followed your instructions. Thank you.”

“You just said…” Jaime looked between the two men, but Brienne interrupted and guided the maester from the room.

“Thank you Maester Harmon. I’ll seek you out if we have any issues.”

From the corner of the room, Tyrion guided the children out; his eyes darting to Jaime. “These two need to get to their lessons. We’ll be by later to visit once you’ve had time to recover a bit more. I’m glad you’re well, brother. For a moment, I feared having to take up the mantle of handsomest Lannister.”

Jaime huffed at the words and offered a small smile at Tyrion. Only Daenerys, Brienne, and Barristan remained in the room. The young Targaryen stepped forward and offered an uncertain glance at Brienne before speaking to Jaime.

“I’m very sorry for what happened, but I’m glad you’re well. I should like to speak with you later when you’re feeling better. I regret our introduction, and would like to meet you properly.”

The look on Brienne’s face offered a less than subtle encouragement. Jaime pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded his consent. The response was sufficient for Daenerys who left quickly, but not before exchanging hushed words with Brienne. There was a familiarity in their demeanor that surprised Jaime. He watched as Daenerys offered a small squeeze to Brienne’s arm before leaving the room.

_ Four days? Was that all? _

Clearing his throat, Barristan nodded slightly; his eyes darting between Jaime and Brienne. “Well I’m glad you’re well, Ser Jaime. I should get back to my office. I’ll uh… speak with you both later.”

Before Jaime could reply, Barristan was moving as quickly from the room as he had entered. The door shut behind him and Jaime looked to Brienne with furrowed brows.

“That was strange…”

“Daenerys?” Brienne closed the space between them and sat beside Jaime on the bed. Her hand slipped into his and she shrugged while exhaling. “She was quite shocked at first, but since spending time with me and Jon, she seems more relieved in a way. I think she was rather lonely and afraid across the Narrow Sea, and…”

“No, not Daenerys. What is wrong with Barristan? That odd exchange with the maester.”

Brienne’s jaw opened in reply; a quiet ‘oh’ on her lips. “He’s fine. Everything was a bit tense is all.”

There seemed more to the story, but Jaime was too tired and uncomfortable to dwell on it. His stomach and throat burned even without food or liquid to agitate them. Deciding a bath was in order, Jaime made his way towards the bathhouse with Brienne’s aid. His body was weak and he swayed slightly, but he needed to wash everything away. The smell of vomit lingered on his body and in his nose. 

“Will you take a bath with me? I need you to catch me if I faint. It would be ridiculous to die in a bathtub after surviving poison.”

Brienne groaned slightly, but nodded in consent. “No dying japes.”

Entering the bathhouse, the steam hit Jaime immediately. It was overwhelming and far too hot for Jaime’s taste, but his aching muscles cried out for the heated pools. The guards outside ensured no one would enter to afford Jaime and Brienne time to bathe alone. Seeing her naked body moving into the bathwater sent a jolt to Jaime’s cock.

A smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips as he finished disrobing and moved in after her. “Princess, wait. My blood is rushing south and now I’ll truly faint.”

Brienne scoffed and splashed water at Jaime, but he could see the smile she was struggling to suppress. “You’re meant to rest today.”

“I rest easiest when inside you.” Jaime pulled Brienne close as their bodies were submerged in the heated pool. He dragged his lips across Brienne’s collarbone as she hummed lightly.

“Jaime…” Brienne’s hands came to rest on his chest. She pulled back her head slowly and smiled. “…bathe. When you’re better, we can rest your preferred way.” 

Loathe as he was to admit it, Brienne had the right of it. With a heavy sigh, Jaime moved towards the ledge of the tub. The water felt good on his body. While he hadn’t been in a battle, Jaime’s body felt as though it had taken a beating from the Mountain.

Glancing at Brienne, Jaime startled. Her eyes shone brightly through the steam rising off the bathwater as she moved towards him. The vision reminded Jaime of his strange dream with Bran. At the expression on Jaime’s face, Brienne’s eyes narrowed.

“Jaime? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just… I had strange dreams while unconscious.”

Brienne sat beside him and stared intently. “Such as?”

“I dreamed of you quite a bit. Well… for most of it. But… the end. It was strange. Everything was so vivid. I was with Bran.”

At the mention of Bran, Brienne stiffened. She sat upright and looked questioningly to Jaime. “What do you mean?”

The dream felt real, but it couldn’t have been true. Jaime sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “The conversation made little sense. Surely it was brought on by something the maester gave me. The setting was unnerving however. It was so cold and we were surrounded by these… things…”

Jaime shook his head and stopped speaking. “Never mind. It was just something brought on by whatever Maester Harmon gave me.”

“Tell me. What was it?”


	61. Brienne XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes a trip to the Wall.

“You can’t be serious. It was some medicinal influenced dream. It wasn’t real.”

Jaime’s eyes darted between Brienne and Jon, but Brienne hardly heard the words. When Jaime described Bran, the figures, and the deathly blue eyes, Brienne knew it was true. It had to be, because it meant Bran could still be alive.

Glancing at Jon, Brienne knew she made the right decision by forcing Jaime to share the dream with him too. Jon shook his head in refute. “It’s no dream. I’ve seen the dead with my eyes. Fire kills them. I killed one with my Lord Commander’s lantern after my sword wouldn’t kill it.”

Brienne still struggled to believe the truth of the dead, but she knew in her heart that Bran was alive. She clung to any hope that he would be out there somewhere.

“I know he’s alive, Jaime. I don’t know why or how, but I believe he is.” Brienne was adamant, but Jaime thought it madness.

“I’m sorry that you’ve both lost him. He seemed a nice boy, but…”

“We’ll fly to the Wall. I’ll speak with Daenerys about it.” Jon stood from his chair and began to pace. “If that sword is there, then it’s true. We’ll go to Valyria after that to get Brightroar.”

Jaime began to protest, but Brienne leapt to her feet eagerly. “And Bran! He’s alive, Jon. We can get him back.”

Holding up a hand to calm her, Jon nodded. “Aye, we will. I think we need to do one thing at a time. I’ll send men to Dragonstone to mine dragonglass. Perhaps Daenerys men can help too. I’ll speak with her shortly and we can make plans to head north.”

“What!? No. Brienne can’t ride that… thing.” Jaime was incredulous, but Brienne needed him to trust her.

“Jaime, I’m not going into battle at the moment. I’m only riding a dragon to the Wall and back. Everything will be fine. I’m a Kingsguard, and I need to guard the king when he flies north.”

Jaime scoffed; his eyes shining with disbelief. “Only riding a dragon to the Wall and back!? Do you hear yourself? This is madness. I was being pumped full of gods only know what concoctions by Maester Harmon, and now you mean to fly on the back of a dragon to the Wall because of it!?”

Brienne’s eyes darted to Jon and she nodded slightly. A wordless conversation passed between them and understanding shone in Jon’s eyes. Brienne was riding north, and she would deal with her husband.

“You’ve had a long day, Jaime. Lets get back to our room. You’re meant to be resting.”

Jaime began to protest, but Brienne only shushed him and guided him from the room as though he was a boy of five being sent to bed. The walk back to the room was filled with bickering. Taking pause before they entered the White Sword Tower, Brienne sighed and grabbed his face.

“Jaime, please. I have to do this. Bran is like a brother to me, and I know he’s out there. I couldn’t save my own brother, but I can save Bran. He has to be alive. You know that Jon can’t go unguarded, but horses will take weeks to get us to the Wall. It will be faster and easier this way.”

Before he could protest, Brienne placed a kiss to his lips. “Please. Don’t fight me on this. Daenerys said the dragons can fly quite fast. We’ll be there and back in no time.”

“I’m going with you.” Jaime shook his head and walked into the tower.

They began bickering once more, but Jaime began to sway slightly as they ascended the steps. Wrapping a supportive arm around him, Brienne guided him to their room.

“I need to speak with Ser Barristan quickly, but I’ll be right back. Just rest and we can continue discussing this shortly.”

Jaime huffed in annoyance but relented. His coloring was getting worse and Brienne knew that he needed to lay down for a bit per the maester’s instructions. After ensuring he would stay put, Brienne made her way towards Ser Barristan’s study.

As her hand came up to knock at the door, Brienne’s mind wandered back to a similar visit the day prior.

_ One day ago _

“Ser Barristan? Are you alright?”

Brienne had come by to inquire if she could change her shift with Loras. The young knight from the Reach had offered to take the overnight shift so that Brienne could stay with Jaime. She had been surprised to find Barristan sitting at a corner seat by the window and staring despairingly to the stained rug. Despite the staff’s attempts to clean the rug, there was a stain from the poison and Jaime’s stomach contents. 

Following Barristan’s gaze, Brienne sighed. “Perhaps a new rug would…”

“No.” Barristan continued staring at the rug; his eyes sadder than usual. “How is he?”

The older knight had not come by to see Jaime after his emotional visit upon returning from killing Littlefinger. Brienne heard that Barristan had finally taken Brynden’s advice and seen the maester about his hand. In his rage, Barristan fractured the hand during the pummeling he gave Littlefinger.

When the adrenaline wore off and the swelling only worsened, Byrnden surmised the hand was broken, but Barristan seemed oblivious. 

Brynden had described the scene in Barristan’s office when he gave the lord commander a scolding about wound care, and Brynden’s description of Barristan’s mental state sounded eerily similar to the one that Brienne found the lord commander in now.

“The maester said his breathing and pulse have improved. He’ll live. In what condition, the maester is uncertain, but he is… alive.”

Brienne was trying not to dwell on the potential damage to Jaime’s organs that the poison had done. The thought only caused her to despair, but until Jaime awoke, there was no knowing what was happening within his body.

At the information, Barristan only hummed; his eyes still fixed on the rug. Brienne moved slowly towards Barristan and pulled up a seat opposite him.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I changed shifts with Ser Loras. He offered to take my overnight shift so that I can be with Jaime when Tyrion retires for the evening.”

At the words, Barristan’s brows furrowed. “Of course. I had not… I made the shifts  _ before _ . I hadn’t considered it. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about. Are you alright, Ser Barristan?”

The question captured Barristan’s attention. His eyes slowly moved to Brienne for the first time since she entered. “Yes, I’m just a bit tired. I haven’t slept well of late. Nothing serious.”

Brienne didn’t need to hear the words to recognize his fatigue. The older knight had dark circles under his eyes. His blue eyes were bleary and the whites were an angry shade of red, but his voice gave away that it was far more than lack of sleep.

Uncertain how to help Barristan, Brienne thought only to offer practical advice. “You really should get a new rug.”

  
  


Now as Brienne once more stood outside the door to Barristan’s study, her knuckles rapt lightly on the thick wood.

“Enter.”

Barristan’s voice was still thick with fatigue when he bid Brienne enter. Pushing inside, Brienne smiled softly at her lord commander. He was dressed in his armor and sat behind his desk writing on a piece of parchment.

_ Thank the gods. He has progressed from despairing by the window to sitting behind his desk. _

As Brienne’s eyes appraised the room, she grumbled at the continued presence of the stained rug. 

_ Gods. Why is he keeping that thing? _

“Ser Brienne, is everything alright?” Barristan’s eyes appraised her cautiously. His quill paused in midair and he seemed to hold a breath as she stepped into the room.

“I’ve spoken with King Jon about some information that Jaime has shared. Well… King Jon and I believe it to be information. Jaime believes it to be little more than a fever dream.”

Barristan’s brows furrowed at the words, but he waited patiently for Brienne to continue. She told Barristan of Jaime’s vision and Jon’s intent to treat it as fact. It was something that Brienne needed to believe in to stay sane. Having no other word of Bran’s fate, Brienne clung to this new hope. 

With a heavy sigh, Barristan stood from his desk. “I’ll escort our king. Perhaps I should take Ser Loras and Ser Brynden.”

“Respectfully, it must be me. We are taking the dragons, and Viserion would not accept anyone else to fly him.”

Barristan huffed and shook his head. “King Jon needn’t take all three dragons, and even if he did, not all must be ridden. Princess Daenerys brought three here with only her as a rider.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne tried a different approach. “Maester Aemon will only give the sword to me. It was the instruction Brynden Rivers left him.”

Barristan bit his lip. A heavy sigh pushed past his lips as he glanced to the widow. “Very well. I’ll go with you though. We’ll take Ser Loras.”

Nodding in agreement, Brienne hesitated at the thought of Jaime. She wanted Jaime to stay and heal, but she knew how stubborn he was. 

“I agree with bringing Ser Loras, but... Jaime seems to think he is going…”

Barristan’s eyes went wide. Anger laced the aged knight’s tone, but an undercurrent of worry shone through. “He can barely walk! He’s not even cleared to consume anything other than bread or water!”

“I agree with you, but I only intend to share that he might not take any assignment well that would see him remain here.”

The atmosphere in the study shifted at Brienne’s words. Without replying, Barristan stormed past her; his footsteps echoing off the walls as he descended the level towards her room. 

_ Seven help me. This is to be a fight. _

Brienne followed quickly at Barristan’s heels. The lord commander cursed and grumbled under his breath as he stormed towards Brienne’s and Jaime’s room. Despite the advantage in length that Brienne’s legs afforded, Barristan moved fast and purposefully.

“What is wrong with you!?” Barristan’s voice filled the tower as he entered the room. His tone surprised Brienne as she stepped into the doorway and watched a confused Jaime attempt to stand with great effort.

“I ate an apple that disagreed with me.” Jaime’s teasing reply did little to temper Barristan’s rage.

“Is everything such a jape to you!? You can barely stand, yet you think yourself fit to ride on a dragon and traipse about the far north!?”

Brienne grimaced and shrunk in on herself. It was quickly becoming apparent that disclosing Jaime’s obstinance to Barristan was not a sound decision. She did not intend to break Jaime’s trust, but the thought of him participating in the excursion worried her. 

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne and frustration began to settle over his features.

“Well my  _ wife _ is not fit for this task either. If she goes…”

“That is for the maester and her to decide.” Barristan cut off Jaime’s words. His tone brokered no argument as he continued. “I am the Lord Commander. Not you. You will stay here and oversee things in my absence. I will keep our king and the princesses safe.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched hard enough to shatter Valyrian steel. The tension in the room was palpable and Brienne sucked in a deep breath.

At his commander’s words, Jaime spoke angrily. “Your hand is broken! How are you to guard anyone better than I can right now?”

“We’ll not be fighting in a battle, but I am well enough to sit astride a dragon for hours on end while you can barely stand before me now!”

Jaime grunted in frustration and shook his head. “Why can’t Brynden oversee things in your absence? I can sit on a dragon just fine. It was my stupid dream that has these fools thinking it true!”

Barristan stepped forward and spoke through gritted teeth. “A dream? Is that what you think it? Is it so inconsequential to you!? You were all but dead in my arms! Now you’re back to us, and you mean to challenge the gods. You will stay here. That is an order.”

Without another word, Barristan left the room and pushed past Brienne. A pang of guilt tugged at Brienne’s heart at the sight of Jaime standing slack-jawed by the bed. Anger clouded his eyes as he sat down and muffled a scream into his hands. 

Brienne’s voice was small as she stepped forward. “I’m sorry. I did not expect him to react that way.”

It was a pathetic offering and Brienne knew it. She knew that Barristan would agree with her assessment of Jaime’s current ability, but in truth, she did not expect  _ that  _ response.

“Yes, well it worked out rather well for your wishes, now didn’t it.” Bitterness laced Jaime’s tone as he stared at the wall opposite him.

Stepping into the room, Brienne exhaled softly as she considered her next words. 

“It will be a short, uneventful journey. I swear to you that I will be right back. When I return, you should be well enough to participate in all activities, including Valyria if it turns out that the dream was much more than that. Ned will need you here though. You’re the next most experienced Kingsguard.”

The words did little to lessen the storm swirling in Jaime’s eyes. Trying a different approach, Brienne wrapped her arms around Jaime. 

“Please, Jaime. Allow your body to heal. While you were  _ dreaming _ , many of us were despairing. I thought I’d lost you. Just stay here.”

Tension left Jaime’s muscles with his next breath. With a resigned grunt, he fell backwards into the bed, pulling Brienne with him.

“Bring our coin. Don’t stand atop that awful Wall. Tyrion tells me the appraisal of the drop alone nearly did him in.”

Brienne smiled against Jaime’s chest; a touch of laughter in her voice. “As I said at Winterfell, I’m not terribly fond of climbing. I prefer our adventure at Winterfell to be my last exposure to such heights.”

“Yet you’re to ride on a dragon. Your logic is worrisome at best.”

* * *

The next day, Brienne stood in the courtyard with Jon, Daenerys, Barristan, and Loras. After speaking with Jon, Daenerys sent word to Daario at Dragonstone to begin mining dragonglass. Jon gave orders for more men to go to the island and give aid in the effort.

With the dragons laying on the courtyard before them and eating several sheep before flight, Brienne glanced back towards the Keep. Ned and Jaime stood in the doorway staring at their group.

Ned thought the journey frivolous and an act of mindless desperation. Jaime thought the trip equally unnecessary, but instead of mirroring the irritation in Ned’s eyes, Jaime’s eyes were filled with worry. 

The day had seen a great improvement to Jaime’s physical health, but he was still weak and his appetite poor. The color on his cheeks was better, but still not his usual golden glow.

Daenerys finished offering Loras and Barristan instructions for how to hold tight to the dragons as they flew. The journey to the Wall would see them in the sky for many hours. Given conditions in the north, all riders wore heavy furs to keep warm.

Before mounting Viserion, Brienne walked towards Jaime. Her lips parted to apologize once more, but Jaime pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly. 

“Please be careful.” Jaime’s lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. 

To Brienne’s left, Ned spoke with Barristan and Jon. They spoke of several matters that Ned would tend to in Jon’s absence. The trip would take less than a week, but Jon was convinced it would prove invaluable in the war to come.

The young king had tasked Ned with bringing the greatest smiths to the city to begin working on the dragonglass. Among them, Gendry would be summoned from Storm’s End, much to Arya’s delight.

Brienne placed a kiss to Jaime’s lips before stepping back towards the dragons. With a moment’s hesitation to touch the swell at her belly, Brienne approached the dragon who chose her.

Brienne climbed atop Viserion and saw the discomfort in Jaime’s eyes as she positioned herself atop the great beast. The dragon’s back was surprisingly warm despite the peculiar feel of its scales against her calloused hands. Offering a reassuring smile to Jaime, Brienne took a deep breath and awaited Loras who would ride with her.

Barristan moved before Jaime. Tense words were exchanged between the pair, though Brienne could not hear the conversation. Since Jaime’s brush with death, Barristan had been slightly unhinged. The usually composed Lord Commander seemed lost in a sea of conflicting emotions. 

Before stepping away from Jaime, Barristan placed a hand on his shoulder. There was a concession in Jaime’s eyes as he nodded in understanding for whatever words Barristan offered. 

Brienne believed that Jaime’s near-death had been harder on Barristan than he cared to admit or discuss. The older knight did not strike Brienne as someone who wished to discuss matters of the heart; a trait that Brienne understood all too well.

There was a vulnerability to love that frightened Brienne. The thought of losing her loved ones gave Brienne immense pain. Love could not be controlled as a sword could, but wounds of the heart cut just as deep, if not deeper than any sword.

With a final look towards Jaime and Ned, Brienne commanded Viserion into the sky as Loras settled securely at her back. The climb was always overwhelming, but the view from the skies was exhilarating.

“How much higher will this thing go? I think I prefer a horse.” Loras’ voice was uneasy at Brienne’s back. She smirked slightly as her head turned slightly to him.

“I find it’s less the height… more the speed” At her words, Loras’ eyes went wide.

The day prior, Daenerys had taken Brienne and Jon for some flying lessons. At full speed, Brienne thought she may plummet to the ground below. It seemed absurd to not have some type of harness, but there was little time for that. 

With Drogon and Rhaegal at Viserion’s sides, the dragons surged forward. A chill kissed Brienne’s cheeks as her eyes watered from the winds. They were not yet in the north, but even the southern air was cool at such heights.

Loras grumbled at her back and used Brienne’s bulk to shield his face. “I’ve never appreciated your size as much as I do now.”

Brienne chuckled at his words and held tight to Viserion’s scales. The beasts moved quickly and the ground below them raced by. It seemed impossible to assess their progress over the kingdoms. They rode for hours on end and stopped to eat, warm up, and rest for the night. 

It would take two days to get to the wall, but Barristan thought it safeset to make camp than find an inn. While they had ample protection for Jon, Barristan did not wish to draw unnecessary attention to themselves. The consideration had made Brienne chuckle.

_ We’re flying on the backs of dragons. How inconspicuous can we be?  _

Sitting around the campfire, Brienne spoke with her found family. It amused Brienne how different they all were, yet how much they shared.

They all grew up with limited kin and an incomplete view of their known family. Further, all three experienced varying degrees of rejection. Jon as a bastard. Brienne as an ugly, undesirable woman. Daenerys as foreign to two lands; Essos and Westeros. 

All three lost mothers to the birthing bed, although Brienne’s known mother had not birthed her. All three lost loved ones. Jon lost Ygritte. Brienne lost her siblings and known mother. Daenerys lost her brother and husband. 

They spoke amicably around the fire that the three Kingsguard had built. The fire crackled as they ate a light snack. At the edge of the clearing, Barristan and Loras spoke quietly as they appraised the area.

Drawing Brienne’s attention back to her half-sister and nephew, Daenerys spoke questioningly. “So Maester Aemon is my great-great-uncle?”

“Aye. He’s sharp of mind, but blind as a bat. He thought himself the last living Targaryen in Westeros. He is in for quite the surprise. When word arrived of Brienne, he nearly fell into the Stranger’s arms. But…”

Jon’s eyes darted to Brienne. The words he spoke left her speechless. “He said, ‘It’s true. Tell me, Jon, she has blue eyes, yes? Breathtaking eyes.’ At the time, I thought it an odd question. Now, I understand.”

Jon had not shared the context before. She wondered if anything else that Jaime said sparked something in Jon.

With a heavy sigh, Brienne glanced at Jon. “If he has Dark Sister, that means Bran is alive. We have to find him.”

Pain shone in Jon’s eyes as he considered the words. “I want to find him more than you know, but I hardly know where to look. He is obviously in the North or north of the Wall, but the area is too vast.”

“Could we fly over with the dragons?” Brienne wanted only to try. She needed to find Bran before harm befell him.

Jon sighed and a puff of condensation stretched out before him. They were north of the Neck, and the weather grew less hospitable. The temperature was shifting and a chill was in the air. 

“Lets ensure this is all true first. We’ll see Aemon and then we can fly over for a bit. Brienne, I want to find him as much as you. I swear it. It’s just that I don’t know  _ where _ to look. I’ve been north of the Wall and it’s both disorienting and vast.”

Daenerys appraised Brienne and shifted closer. “Are you close to Bran?”

“Yes, though I’ve not spent much time with Bran compared to Jon. It’s just that Bran was one of the few people to look at me as though I was human; not just some great beast undeserving of kindness.”

In truth, only her father and the Starks offered her kindness; the latter couple likely on account of Old Nan. Even Jaime’s initial words to Brienne had been cutting. Brienne never held it against anyone. She knew that her appearance was a lot to ask in way of acceptance. When she did experience kindness, Brienne offered all of herself out of gratitude. 

The next day, they took to the skies again. As the temperatures dropped and the distance to the Wall lessened, the dragons grew more difficult to control. Something was unsettling them and Brienne could feel their unease in her bones. On approach to the Wall, the dragons refused to go further. The dragons touched down outside Castle Black and cried out in protest. Glancing at Daenerys in surprise at the behavior, Brienne noticed the confusion on her face. 

When they dismounted the dragons, the sworn brothers screamed as though preparing for defense. It wasn’t until Jon raised a hand that the expressions of those assembled turned from panic to shock.

Brienne appraised the men gathered atop the battlements of Castle Black. They looked down hesitantly and bowed at Jon. Lookouts shouted for the Lord Commander as the gates slowly opened.

With a deep breath, Jon spoke to their group while staring up at the Wall. “Welcome to Castle Black. Let’s find out kin.”


	62. Barristan I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barristan and the group arrive at Castle Black. He realizes quickly that Jaime's dream was much more than a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point forward, we get more Barristan POVs and less Catelyn POVs (though there is still another Catelyn POV yet to come)

The roaring fire in the room made it easy to forget they were at the northernmost edge of the Seven Kingdoms. Barristan had heard tales of the Wall, but no amount of descriptions could have done it justice. 

Walking towards the window, Barristan stared out at the looming structure. His mouth gaped as he took in the sight of it once more. At his back, he heard the ancient voice of Aemon Targaren; a light chuckle preceding his words.

“Strange days indeed. I’ve three discovered kin, one on the way, and dragons roam the skies. My brother would have had a proper fit at this. Come close girl, you’re so quiet.”

A small smile tugged at Barristan’s lips. He didn’t need to turn to know the older maester was speaking to Brienne. For a woman of her size, Brienne was shy and unassuming without a blade in hand. 

The shuffling of a chair signaled her approach. After a moment’s pause, Aemon spoke inquisitively. “May I?”

Aemon had felt Daenerys face as if painting pictures in his mind. He had smiled and chuckled as he noted whose features she possessed. Glancing back towards the three young Targaryens, Barristan saw Brienne’s face fall.

“I fear it might cause a fright. I… I’ve no Targaryen features. You’ll find no find memories to share.”

At Brienne’s small voice, the maester’s brows furrowed. “Bones are not all there is to a Targaryen. You cannot feel the heart. You remind me of my sister Rae.”

Barristan smiled at the older man’s words. Aemon’s wrinkled hands reached out in question and beckoned Brienne forward. Hesitantly, Brienne shifted closer; a grimace on her face. Her embarrassment at the assessment to come and the mist coating Brienne’s eyes broke Barristan’s heart.

True, Brienne was no beauty. Minstrels would sing of her skill, but never her face. Despite that, Barristan thought her the most beautiful of heart. No matter the exterior, no woman could match Brienne’s innate goodness. 

It amused Barristan how Brienne, who had the greatest inner beauty, was married to a man considered by most to have the most beautiful exterior. That same man’s twin was thought to be untouchable in beauty as well, but Barristan thought her the ugliest of all. Cersei had been cruel and hateful; nothing like her twin or Brienne.

Barristan watched as Maester Aemon’s trembling hands mapped out Brienne’s face. A smile stretched across his face and his lips parted in awe.

“Dunk. Oh how I’ve missed him. You are certainly his great-granddaughter. I imagine you guard your nephew as well as Dunk guarded Egg. He was the best of them.”

At Aemon’s words, a wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face. Every time she smiled, Barristan questioned his assessment of her exterior beauty. Her smile lit up any room she was in. It was genuine and warm; a wide smile that reflected the depths of the love she carried inside. 

Brienne did not smile often, but when she did, it always made Barristan take pause. Usually, the smile was placed there by Jaime. Today, it was her great-great-uncle who did the honors. 

As if reading Barristan’s mind, Aemon spoke excitedly. “Oh, now that smile is not Dunk’s. That smile is all my sister, Daella. I always thought it the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I’m glad to know it lives on in you.”

Brienne’s cheeks flushed at the words and she began to refute it, but Barristan opted to play the role of Jaime and silence her nonsense. “It is. I do believe her husband will do anything to earn it, though we all benefit from his efforts.”

The blush at Brienne’s cheeks deepened, but she swallowed her protest that time. With unseeing eyes, and a smile in his voice, Aemon nodded slowly. “Daella sang beautifully too; both my sisters in fact. I used to love listening to them sing to their children. Will you sing to your little one?”

Barristan knew that Brienne enjoyed music as Rhaegar did. He was not surprised to hear that a love for music ran deep in the Targaryen line. Brienne’s timid voice confirmed her love of song. The words brought a smile to Aemon’s face. 

“I bet your eyes are as blue as anything too. I know of you. It was foretold. You’re here for your sword. Do you fight like Visenya and Dunk?”

The room quieted at the words. Barristan sucked in a sharp breath and glanced at Jon. He sat smugly beside Brienne; his knowing eyes darting to those assembled. 

_Gods. Jaime’s dream was no dream._

“She does. She knocked me on my ass many times.” Jon chuckled from his seat, and Barristan was quick to confirm it.

“King Jon speaks truly. She is most impressive with a sword.”

Aemon hummed in reply. “If Barristan the Bold declares it true, it must be. Jon… the third stand on the left. There is some loose stonework at the flooring. Why don’t you give your aunt what she needs.”

Jon moved quickly from the chair and towards the noted area in the back corner of the room. He moved some items out of the way and began to push on the stonework. When a large section caved under his effort, Jon smiled and removed the stone. 

Reaching inside, Jon removed a bagged object. The length of it required some maneuvering to extract, but he soon had what could only be a sword in hand. Replacing the stonework and items, Jon walked slowly to Brienne as he brushed off the bag. Dust and dirt coated the covering, sending debris into the air as he brushed it away.

Handing it to Brienne, Jon offered silent encouragement. Barristan’s feet carried him forward. Curiosity lined his features and he stared at the object. A gasp pushed past Barristan’s lips when Brienne removed the bag. 

Inside was a sheathed sword of the finest quality. True to Jaime’s dream, it was much more slender than the average sword. The hilt seemed made for Brienne’s hand. Her fingers were long and her palm larger than most women, but it was still a woman’s hand. 

The hilt had a blood-red gem, and a dragon’s head adorned the top. Loras and Barristan admired the blade from over Brienne’s shoulder. The Kingsguard and Loras were in awe of the sword as Aemon smiled widely. Only Daenerys seemed indifferent to the blade.

“I gather it’s of fine quality?”

Jon huffed a laugh and nodded. “The highest quality. They don’t make them like this any longer. Brienne is hogging all the Valyrian steel.”

With a snort, Brienne looked to Jon. “Says the man with Longclaw at his hip.”

Barristan eyed the ancestral sword of House Mormont. It had not surprised Barristan that the sword was bestowed upon Jon. With Jorah in exile, the Old Bear would have wanted a good man wielding it.

Patting Brienne’s shoulder, Jon leaned over and smiled. “Let’s spend the remaining light flying over the land. We can look for Bran.”

The idea thrilled Brienne, but the execution was poor. To their surprise, the dragons refused to fly over the Wall. They had behaved erratically on the flight north, and earlier they refused to approach any closer to the Wall. After the dragons took rest, Daenerys assumed they would fly again, but they only wished to go south.

“I don’t understand it. They’ve never refused commands like this.” Daenerys stared ahead at the Wall as the dragons circled the skies to their south.

With a deep sigh, Barristan tracked the beasts’ movements. “It’s for the best. We should get back to King’s Landing on the morrow. I’ve no doubt that once you all start your search, you’ll not stop until you find the boy.”

Judging by the look on Brienne’s face, Barristan had the right of it. His eyes lowered to the slight swell of her belly. Despite her position as a Kingsguard, Barristan couldn’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness over Brienne. She was the type to put others first as she had with Rickon, and as Barristan feared she would with Lord Bran. 

Their group took an early supper in the hope of resting and flying out before the sun rose. Jon was eager to get back and continue planning for the war with the dead; the war that Barristan still struggled to believe despite the day’s experience. 

The hall was as warm as Aemon’s study had been. Barristan sat between Brienne and Loras as Jon sat across from them with Daenerys and a brother of the Night’s Watch, Ed.

Jon glanced at Barristan with mirth dancing in his eyes. “Ser Barristan, you must be enjoying the visit to the Wall. Aside from the ladies we brought, you’ll find no women here to hound you.”

Barristan groaned at the words, but he could feel the shoulders of Loras and Brienne shaking at each of his sides. With a hum of amusement, Loras nudged Barristan as he replied to Jon.

“Don’t challenge Lady Genna, your Grace. Once she hears of this adventure, she’ll summon a dragon of her own to send some available lady here to harass our Lord Commander.”

Barristan grumbled to himself, but in truth, he would not put it past Genna. For sixteen moons since Jaime and Brienne wed, Barristan exchanged missives with Genna. 

The older woman desperately sought word of her favorite knights who never sent letters, and she also seemed determined to honor her oath to “get Barristan a much needed fuck”. 

Over the past year, women of the West had visited court to act as “emissaries” from the West, but Jon and the Kingsguard knew. Genna was meddling. She sent noblewomen who had lost husbands or never taken one. They all sought private audience with the Lord Commander; diplomatic relations of course. 

At first, Barristan was shocked by it. He recalled the first woman to visit.

_One Year Ago_

“Thank you for granting me audience, Ser Barristan.”

Barristan rounded his desk after offering the woman a seat. “Of course. What can I do for you? I’m not certain what aid I could possibly send West.”

The woman blushed fiercely. “Apologies, Ser. I thought Lady Genna had mentioned me in her missives. My name is Lady Elva. My husband died fighting for the West against the Young Wolf. My son is a man grown and has no need of me at the Keep now that he is wed. Lady Genna had thought… seeing as Kingsguard can marry... that you might seek a wife.”

Barristan startled at the words. He blushed fiercely and stammered.

“Oh, my lady, I’m very sorry for the misunderstanding. I think Lady Genna had been a bit… presumptuous. I’m just an old man seeking to serve my king.”

The woman deflated slightly, but nodded in understanding. “My apologies. She had seemed rather certain that you had _need_ of a woman.”

_By the Seven, I’ll send Genna the Stranger in reply._

“I’m certain Lady Genna meant well, though I regret you’ve come all this way for nothing.”

Two moons later, another lady of the West arrived. Each woman thereafter was kind enough, some more forward than others, but each time, Barristan sent them away with an apology. The last woman stood out among the others. 

Just a moon turn ago, the latest “emissary” had not even feigned interest in political matters with King Jon. As she stood before the king in the throne room, the woman’s eyes undressed Barristan and she licked her lips.

Jon could hardly contain his laughter, and Barristan lamented having placed Loras on duty with him that day. Anyone else might have helped Barristan flee, but Loras only escorted her to Barristan’s study after his hasty retreat. 

“Lord Commander, you never got to hear this lovely woman out.”

_Gods save me. I think this one spent many years in pillow houses or following camps. Genna has reached a new level of madness._

“Hello, Ser. My name is Jenai, though my dearest call me by other names behind closed doors.”

Barristan’s eyes darted desperately to Loras. _Don’t abandon me, boy_.

With a small “oh” of amusement at his lips, Loras slowly closed the door. “That’s quite nice, my lady. I’ll leave you both to it.”

The woman stalked forward slowly. “Lady Genna says you’re a bit _stressed_ and your recent letters rather terse. She says you need some _release._ ”

“Yes, well the tension is caused by the very ladies who Lady Genna continues to send me. I can assure you, I need no aid.”

Jenai feigned sorrow, pouting her thick lower lip. “Tis a shame. They say you’re the best man with a sword. I’ve been told that I’m the best woman with a sword. I could show you.”

Barristan swallowed thickly and backed away.

“Have you met Lord Tyrion? I think you might enjoy Lady Genna’s nephew.”

That night, Barristan replied to Genna’s latest missive.

_Lady Genna,_

_By the gods, leave me be. I don’t know what madness possessed you with this last one, but I feel thoroughly scandalized. This is not a coming of age tour. I am old and resigned to my fate. Focus on your own personal affairs._

_And to that point, no, don’t send Red to squire for that awful man! I’ll enclose a list with more reasonable options. Good men. Men who would treat the boy as their own._

_Your knights are well. Jaime has given up trying to teach Tommen the sword. The boy just wants to play with his cats. Now Jaime’s latest project is trying to teach Myrcella how to wield a dagger. It’s going just as poorly._

_Brienne has done wonders with Pod and Arya. They’ll be ready to squire soon themselves, though Pod fancies himself Brienne’s squire as it is._

_As to Lord Tyrion, he had ceased his visits to the brothels, but he quite enjoyed Jenai after I introduced them. Please, no more!_

_And… thank you for the tunics that you sent with the last “emissary”. I wear them under the required Kingsguard attire. You do recall we have that?_

_Barristan_

  
  


Sitting at the dining hall at Castle Black, Barristan sighed as the memories washed over him. In truth, he enjoyed the communication with Genna if not her meddling. He could practically hear her voice yammering at him through the parchment, but he knew that Genna meant well.

As they ate and talked, a loud horn blew. Jon stood from his chair; his breathing held in anticipation.

Barristan glanced around the hall and observed the other brothers behaving the same way. Anticipation hung heavy in the room as another horn sounded.

“What does that mean?” Daenerys spoke quietly, but neither Brienne, Loras, nor Barristan understood the code. Then a third horn blew and the brothers paled.

“The Others. We need that Valyrian steel, Ser Brienne.” Jon spoke the words in a whisper and his eyes darted to Barristan. “Take half of Ice, Ser Barristan. You’ll need an advantage with a broken hand.”

Brienne stood slowly and handed Barristan half of Ned’s ancestral sword. Confusion washed over Barristan as the sworn brothers rushed outside. Following Jon and the brothers of the Night’s Watch, Barristan observed pure chaos in the yards.

A brother shouted to King Jon. “A boy, girl, and rider approach! They’ve the Others at their heels! The rider won’t come closer to the gates, and the boy struggles to walk!”

Brienne gasped. “Bran! Stay here, Jon. I’ll get him!” Charging towards the passage that cut through the Wall, Brienne’s long legs carried her away from them. Jon and Barristan screamed and ran after her in reply. Jon’s voice was desperate as brothers of the Night’s Watch joined them. 

“Brienne! Wait! We don’t know how many.”

Brothers poured through the tunnel at their sides; their collective panting echoing hard off the walls. Barristan kept his eyes on Jon and Brienne.

_Seven hells. They should have held back! Let the brothers, Loras, and me handle this!_

Brienne seemed to have the same idea about Jon. Eying him as they surged forward, she barked at him. “Let me handle this! Please, stay with Daenerys. It’s not safe for you!”

Jon only snorted and shook his head. “I spent moons north of the Wall. I know those woods better than you. I’ll guard your back, _aunt_.”

Brienne scoffed as they ran. “Do you understand the purpose of a Kingsguard, _nephew_? You see how it works, is that the sworn knights guard the king!”

Rolling his eyes, Barristan shoved past them both. “Enough now. The pair of you stay behind me. Ser Loras, stay beside King Jon.”

“Your hand is broken!” Brienne called out at his back, but Barristan cared little. He could fight left handed or withstand the pain in his right to do his duty and keep them all safe. 

They reached the other end of the tunnel and stepped out to see three figures approaching with a dense fog at their backs. Blue eyes poked through the cloud of snow covering their bodies. The girl looked terrified as she ran at the side of a cloaked figure. In the figure’s arms, a boy stared ahead with panic in his eyes.

As they approached the threesome, the heavy fog rolled over them. Blue eyes, gnashing teeth, and an awful smell greeted the brothers, Kingsguard, and Jon. 

Barristan’s eyes went wide as a corpse with unnatural blue eyes clawed at him. Taking half of Ice in his left hand, Barristan began to cut through the creatures. Had it not been for years of training with two swords, Barristan would be no better than a squire with the left. Fortunately, the dead fell easily enough despite seeming to outnumber them four to one. 

Glancing left, Barristan saw Jon, Loras, and Brienne fighting with everything they had. The Night’s Watch used their torches or tried to remove limbs to slow the dead’s progress. The swords of standard steel did little to kill the dead things charging them. 

Jon’s eyes were frantic and he screamed at the cloaked figure. “Uncle Benjen! Get Bran to the Wall! We’ll cover your retreat.”

“I go south no more, nephew. Take Bran and Meera.”

As the fighting continued around them, the cloaked figure dropped Bran into Jon’s arms. “Go, Jon! Now!”

Jon’s eyes darted to Barristan and the Lord Commander nodded in encouragement. “Get him inside! We’ll guard your back!”

Barristan, Loras, and Brienne moved quickly at Jon’s back. A quick glance at the man who Jon called _uncle_ startled Barristan. The man looked frozen over in death. His eyes were not an unnatural blue, but it seemed they should have been.

Covering Jon’s retreat, Barristan, Loras, and Brienne cut through threats at each side. Then in the distance, a massive creature stepped from the fog. Unlike the dead things clawing at them, this one moved with purpose, technique, and deathly silence. 

“Loras. Brienne. Stay with Jon!”

Raising his sword high, Barristan charged the creature. Half of Ice crashed into the creature’s blade and sent a jolt of pain through Barristan’s arm. The creature’s strength seemed otherworldly. Shock rippled through Barristan as the creature began to fight back. 

_Gods. This thing is incredible._

At Barristan’s side, Brienne lunged forward with Dark Sister. The creature began to battle them both; his blade deftly meeting their strikes. With a loud cry, Brienne spun right and landed a killing blow to the creature. Her blade dragged across his gut and the impact shattered the creature into thousands of icy shards. 

As the creature became little more than droplets of ice, all the dead things fighting the larger group fell to the ground. The fog lifted from the area, and left the living panting roughly fifty yards from the wall.

One brother of the Night’s Watch screamed at the rest. “Quickly! Get the torches! Burn the bodies.”

_Gods. The dead are real. What the hells did Brienne just kill?_

* * *

Barristan sat atop the Wall in awe. It seemed a perfect place to reflect on life. The perfect place to let his mind wander. 

Two parts of Jaime’s vision had come true that day. Barristan had seen the dead and Dark Sister. He heard Aemon’s expecting voice at the purpose of their visit. Realization set in.

_This is more than a threat to the crown. This is a fight for life. We need to go to Valyria next._

The swirling thoughts of Jaime’s vision guided Barristan’s thoughts to Jaime. The past week had been unbearable and Barristan struggled with unfamiliar emotions.

For most of Barristan’s life, his only family was that of his sworn brothers. He was not close to his House and his own relationship with his father was troubled. Growing up, Barristan wished to be a great knight, but his father wanted him to play the part of lord.

_‘You must do your duty to our House. You must lead, not follow! What good will you do me serving others. Your place is here at Harvest Hall. You will marry and wed a suitable woman to continue our House, and further our position in the Stormlands.’_

It seemed laughable to think on how similar his own father was to Tywin. Duty before love. Legacy before honor. House before vows. 

When Barristan accepted his place in Jaehaerys’ Kingsguard, he was as good as dead to his House. He saw his only brother infrequently over the years, and his nephew less. 

Over the years, ravens brought word of his father’s death, and then of his brother’s. Word arrived years ago that he had a great-nephew to lead their House, but the boy was as foreign to Barristan as the path home. 

_Home. What is home? My home has been King’s Landing for forty years._

When Barristan said his vows, he knew he would die in that city at old age, or in battle defending his king. He had accepted the fate decades ago, but over the years, the sovereigns grew less worthy. 

Then Jaime came along. Barristan had not realized at the time just how much they had in common. They faced similar demands from their House. As boys, they both longed to be great knights. They both longed for love rather than political alliance. 

Of course, Barristan could not understand the twisted relationship between the twins, but Barristan, like Jaime, would only seek a woman out of love. 

When the truth of Aerys came out, Barristan was in awe of Jaime. He mused that if he had a son, he would have prayed to the Gods the boy was like Jaime. Of course, such an opportunity had long passed. Barristan would go to his grave never knowing familial love or romantic love. Still, he was accepting of it.

_How could I miss what I never had? Do those born blind miss seeing? Do those born deaf miss hearing?_

Of course, it was that lack of exposure to love in any form that caused Barristan to misunderstand the emotion. Over the years he had bonded with a few of his sworn brothers. He mourned them in death, but he grieved easily and recovered quickly. There had been no love for them; only respect and fondness. To Barristan, his sworn brothers had been peers. Comrades. 

The relationship with Jaime felt _different,_ though Barristan was uncertain what to call it. Since learning of Aerys, guilt plagued Barristan. Memories of the young, frightened boy alone in the Red Keep haunted him. He recalled Jaime’s distant looks and screams in the night. Their rooms abbutted one another, and Jaime’s nightmares were fierce. Barristan never checked on him, but every day, he noted how less _present_ Jaime appeared. 

Then Barristan spent time with the true Jaime. The Jaime who took a dagger to the gut to save an innocent girl. The Jaime who climbed a tower to save the princess. The Jaime who fought his House and former lover to save the realm. 

There was a shift. Guilt gave way to care. Care gave way to an unfamiliar feeling. 

Then Jaime died in Barristan’s arms; or so Barristan thought. Barristan felt broken in ways he never thought possible. The pain left him incapable of completing the most basic of tasks. Self-care became an afterthought as he stared at the stained rug in his office. 

The rage that Barristan felt for Littlefinger was indescribable and he recalled with mortification how outside himself he had behaved when pummeling the miserable shit to death. All Barristan could see was Jaime dead in his arms. Were it not for the Blackfish and the Gold Cloaks, Barristan wondered if he would still be in that clearing smashing Littlefinger’s shattered bones deeper into the dirt. 

Brynden had tried to console Barristan after. “ _When my father died, I fell into a similar grief. Just don’t mourn Jaime yet. He draws breath still. Lets get back to the Keep.”_

The words were strange. _Grief? Mourn?_

Barristan had mourned before. Whatever he was feeling was surely some fleeting madness. Perhaps it was the guilt at encouraging Jaime to accept the peace offering; that bloody apple. Surely that was what drove the madness. Then Barristan saw Jaime’s unconscious, sunken body upon returning to the Keep.

The emotion was too strong to ignore then. _I love that boy as though he was my own son. But he isn’t my son. If he survives this, I’ll lose him too. If not to the blade or some cowardly poison, I’ll lose him to his true family. He’ll go to Tarth, and I’ll be alone again. Alone as I’ve always been._

Barristan kept away. He kept the awful rug; the reminder that Jaime would leave him eventually. Barristan was happy for Jaime of course. After all that Jaime had been through, he deserved the love he found. He deserved his growing family and happiness. 

Barristan resolved that he would do everything in his power to keep Jaime and Brienne safe until their time came to leave the Kingsguard. He would give his life for theirs just as he would his king.

With the new Kingsguard vows, it would always be that way now. Sworn brothers would come and go. Unlike his brothers of old, Barristan would die alone. It felt cruel. Barristan was the last of a generation. The last of centuries of knights who gave up the chance for love and family to serve. Now those things could coexist, but at four-and-sixty, there was no chance for him. 

_Why would I even want love anyway?_

Loving others hurt more than a life without love. He didn’t want to find love with a woman. He didn’t want to find familial love as he felt for Jaime. It would hurt too much when they left or died.

Serving without love had been easier. There was no vulnerability, heartache, and unpredictable range of emotions to guide his hand. He could act with his head and be led by his oaths.

Barristan breathed in the crisp northern air and watched the last vestiges of light retreat over the horizon. In the distance, death was coming for them. Barristan wouldn’t let it take Jaime as it tried to days ago. He wouldn’t let it take Brienne or Jon either. Barristan resolved that he would fight until his last breath to protect them all. He would protect their opportunity to live with love.


	63. Jaime XXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime impatiently awaits the group's return from the Wall. He and Barristan then have another non-conversation conversation.

“Stop pacing. You’re giving me a headache.” Ned complained from behind his desk in the Tower of the Hand. 

It had been a week since Jon, Barristan, Loras, Brienne, and Daenerys left for the Wall. Jaime grunted in frustration and stopped pacing to lean against Ned’s desk. “They were only to collect a nonexistent sword and return immediately. Are they inspecting every fucking twig at the Wall to test its edge?”

Ned rolled his eyes, but withheld reply. Both men knew the effort was ridiculous, but Ned refused to say it aloud. 

“Didn’t Barristan leave you to oversee things?”

Jaime huffed and straightened while staring at Ned with an incredulous expression on his face. “I am overseeing things! A rather large, brooding, annoying _thing_ at the moment!”

“Can you guard this _thing_ from outside the study? Isn’t that where Ser Brynden is?”

With an exasperated shrug, Jaime rolled his eyes at Ned. “How should I know where he is?”

“Is it not the job of the acting Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to manage the Kingsguard?” Ned sighed and continued writing his missive. The man seemed to do little more than brood and write; both things annoying Jaime to no end.

Inviting himself to the seat opposite Ned, Jaime crossed his arms and glared. “My job is to guard the King. The King is on a dragon somewhere in your miserable kingdom looking for snarks and long-lost swords. At the rate such a task could take, he’ll return to present me with my fifty-year-old child.”

Placing down his quill, Ned leaned back and stared at Jaime. “Since the day they left, you have been in this office pestering me. What do you want? I have as much control over this as you.”

“He’s _your_ nephew. Can’t you do something about this?”

Raising an unimpressed brow, Ned returned Jaime’s words that were hurled at him in jest for moons on end. “I thought he was _your_ goodnephew?”

Jaime rose from his seat and huffed in annoyance. Before he could take leave, a knock came at the door. Both men called out in reply; frustration heavy in their voices. “Enter.”

“Are you serious? This is my room, Ser Jaime.” The incredulous voice of Ned Stark reached Jaime's ears as the door opened and an attendant stepped inside. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime sneered at Ned. “Ser Barristan left me in charge. I’m overseeing things. Just write your silly letter.”

The attendant's voice drew Jaime's eyes towards the door as he announced his purpose. “Lord Hand. Ser Jaime. The dragons approach.”

_Finally!_

Dashing through the Keep, Jaime quickly arrived in the courtyard. His chest was heaving as he bent at the waist and looked to the sky. Sure enough, the outline of three approaching dragons greeted his eyes. A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips and he resumed pacing in the courtyard. Moments later, Brynden and Ned arrived. The Stark patriarch grumbled at Jaime’s back.

“I thought you were guarding _things_. It seems you forgot me in the Tower of the Hand.”

“Calm down, Ned. I assigned Ser Brynden to guard you.”

A longsuffering sigh pushed past the Blackfish lips as he stepped to Jaime’s side. “No, you didn’t. In fact, I believe you’ve neglected to post the schedule for two days now. We just figured it out amongst ourselves while you complained about _everything_.”

Jaime appraised his childhood idol and scoffed. He glanced back at the approaching dragons and muttered in reply. “That was a test, and look at how well you’ve all done. You should feel very proud of yourselves.”

Brynden snorted and lifted a hand to his eyes as he squinted into the distance. “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Jaime panicked at Brynden’s remark. He strained to see what could have caused such a comment from the older knight.

“I thought there were five of them that flew north. There are six figures on those dragons.”

Appraising the incoming group, Jaime observed the same. Seated with Brienne was a young boy. As the dragon neared the courtyard, Jaime’s eyes went wide. Bran Stark was seated before Brienne on the back of Viserion. Loras rode with Jon and Barristan rode with Daenerys.

A gasp at Jaime’s back preceded Ned’s presence at his side. The name on Ned’s lips was but a whisper. “Bran.”

When the group landed and dismounted the dragons, Ned ran to Bran. The boy had grown much in two years, and Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight. Brienne moved forward confidently; a new sword at her hip.

_Is that? No. This can’t be real._

When Brienne crashed into him, Jaime felt a wave of relief. This was no dream to awake from. Brienne was in his arms, unharmed and warm against his body. It seemed they accomplished their objective and more. Even if they had not retrieved the sword, Bran was found.

Stepping back, Jaime’s eyes lowered to the sword at Brienne’s hip. It certainly was not half of Ice as she had left with. Before he could ask the question at the tip of his tongue, Barristan approached and placed an arm around Brienne.

“Your wife killed a White Walker using Dark Sister. I trust you’ve been just as productive here.”

Brynden guffawed and slapped Jaime’s back. “He truly tested us. We feel _very_ proud of ourselves.” 

An hour later, Jaime left the impromptu meeting with Bran. He felt overwhelmed as though lost in a dream from which there was no waking. White Walkers. Valyrian steel swords. Three-eyed-ravens.

All that mattered was that the group was home safely. The extended time to their trip had come from a stop at Winterfell. They thought it best to let Lady Catelyn hold her son before Bran insisted on moving south. 

Brienne had left half of Ice with Robb per Bran’s direction. With Dark Sister, they recovered one of two swords that Bran had shown Jaime while the latter was unconscious. Barristan remained behind with Bran and Ned to discuss what needed to be done next. They would journey to Valyria while the rest of the kingdoms concentrated on mining as much dragonglass as possible.

Jaime longed for little more than wrapping his arms around Brienne. That night, Jaime held Brienne to him as though she might drift away like a ship without an anchor. She was tired, but Jaime could not let her find sleep. Whispered words of love poured from his lips and his hand caressed her swell. 

* * *

Four days later, Jaime stood outside Barristan’s door. When Barristan bid him enter, Jaime took a deep breath and stepped inside. 

“Ser Jaime. What can I help you with?”

_Ser Jaime. Not Jaime._

“I just thought I might stop by. Brienne is on duty, so I wondered if you need help here.”

Appraising the room, Jaime noted the stack of papers on Barristan’s desk. The missives had piled up in Barristan’s absence, and Jaime suddenly felt badly about the limited work he accomplished. For the first four days the group was gone, Jaime was on top of things. By the fifth day however, worry had set in. The group had only planned to be gone four days, and Jaime feared something had happened to them.

Barristan continued writing as he replied. “I don’t need help, thank you.”

It was a dismissal; that much Jaime understood. The tone and clipped reply were akin to what Jaime often received before Barristan knew the truth of Aerys. Jaime was uncertain what he had done to upset Barristan, but since surviving the poisoning, Barristan seemed distant. 

An awkward silence settled over them as Jaime lingered in the doorway. “Your papers are quite high. I didn’t think you’d be gone so long, so I had not opened them.”

“I’ll get to them.”

Barristan stared at the parchment below his quill. His mind occupied with whatever matter had his attention in the moment. 

“Is this about the Wall? As I recall, I _did not_ go, and instead remained here as you ordered. I had to endure Ned for a week. A week! Do you have any idea what that kind of torture can do to a man?”

At Jaime’s comment, Barristan glanced up. A confused expression was matched by Barristan’s tone. “I’ve said nothing of the Wall. Is this about your shift assignment? You could have made the schedule for this week while I was gone if you had a preference.”

Jaime suddenly felt foolish. Perhaps Barristan had no quarrel with him, and Jaime merely misconstrued their time together as something more than work. For Jaime, time with Barristan was less about helping his Lord commander with menial tasks, and more about spending time with a man who offered Jaime a kindness and level of care that his own father had not.

“Right. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Wandering the Keep, Jaime found Tyrion pouring over some ledgers in his office. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that my big brother coming by to say hello?”

Sarcasm dripped from Tyrion’s tone as he waved a hand at the vacant seat before him. Jaime dropped into the chair wordlessly; his mind still mulling over the shift in Barristan’s behavior of late. Before he could comment on it, Tyrion leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Are Brienne and Ser Barristan on duty together? I’m not certain I’ve seen you without one of them at your side in… gods… I couldn’t say how long. How long since Jon took the throne?”

Jaime grumbled at the words, but he could not refute them. “Can I not spend time with my favorite brother?”

“I am your only brother, Jaime.” 

“Actually, I have six beside yourself.” 

“Six brothers aside from myself? I think you mean five sworn brothers. Would Ser Brienne not be a sworn sister? I suppose you got what you always wanted. You’ve married your sister.” Jaime grimaced at the distasteful jape. An immediate apology shone in Tyrion’s eyes as he looked up and sighed. “Sorry. That wasn’t my best effort. What troubles you?”

“Nothing. I missed that handsome face of yours.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Tyrion’s lips. Reaching for the jug of wine at one side of the table, Tyrion refilled his cup before pouring a second for Jaime. “You’ve always been a shit liar. What’s wrong? Is Brienne displeased in the bedroom? If so, you’ve come to the right place. The ladies have never once complained about my tongue; be it my wit or my ministrations. Do you need advice?”

“No! Perhaps you’ve not noticed the swell at Brienne’s belly, but I can assure you that my wife is quite cared for, thank you.”

Jaime crossed his arms like a petulant child. Sliding the cup of wine towards Jaime, Tyrion raised a brow. “So, Brienne is on duty?”

Jaime nodded in affirmation and took the offered wine. He was never much of a drinker nor did he have a desire to go drink for drink with Tyrion. 

“So something has you and Ser Barristan at odds then. If you’re not with Brienne, then you’re always with him.”

_Gods damn him! Why can’t I just sulk in peace?_

The expression on Jaime’s face must have given away the accuracy of Tyrion’s guess. Humming in delight at his astute observation, Tyrion took a long sip and twirled the stem of his cup between his fingers. He eyed Jaime and shrugged. 

“What did you say to piss him off?”

“I hardly know. Has he seemed tense in the small council of late?” Jaime hoped it was something with Jon or Ned that Barristan disagreed with. To assign blame to them felt more palatable than thinking Barristan was merely upset at him. 

“No. He seems his usual self. Quiet. Honorable. Overfastidious .” Tyrion studied Jaime as he answered. “Has he said he’s angry with you about something?”

Jaime put down the cup and shrugged. “No. It’s nothing, and to be honest, I care _very little_. What news of the West? How is our beloved aunt?”

Jaime was eager to drop the conversation about Barristan. The change in subject accomplished what Jaime had hoped. Tyrion rolled his eyes and grumbled as he proceeded to spend half an hour complaining about Genna and her expectations. 

The brothers sat and spoke for some time. Tyrion had several questions that he cared to receive Jaime’s opinion on regarding military matters and a few vassals who Jaime knew quite well. When the hour came that Brienne’s shift was over, Jaime bid his brother goodbye to find her. 

As usual, Brienne’s first stop was at their room to remove her sword. She smiled at Jaime when he entered their chambers and an immediate warmth rushed through him just by being in Brienne’s presence. His eyes lowered to the swell at her belly and it was enough to make him forget the distance with Barristan.

“I’ve missed you.” Wrapping his arms around Brienne, Jaime sighed into her neck.

“I was only on shift for some hours. Surely you pestered Barristan in my absence.” Brienne’s voice was teasing, but the words struck Jaime. 

He had little desire to discuss the matter with Brienne. Jaime feared she might raise the matter to Barristan, and that would only result in embarrassment. 

_The man owes me nothing. He isn’t my kin nor is he a friend. He is my Lord Commander._

Forcing a smile, Jaime shrugged. “Are you ready for supper? I’m quite hungry.”

They walked hand in hand to the dining room in the White Sword Tower. The Hound and Balon had duty that night as Brienne and Brynden had just finished their shifts. When they walked into the room, Jaime noted that he and Brienne were the last to arrive.

Brynden and Barristan sat opposite Loras who was speaking about fighting the dead with standard steel. “I cut through that thing more than a dozen times, but it just kept coming at me. Were it not for one man’s bloody troch, the dead would have overrun me.”

With a heavy sigh, Barristan rubbed at his forehead. The right hand was still heavily bandaged and of little use. “We’ll have another soon enough. We received the new orders from King Jon to fly to Valyria under Lord Bran’s instruction.”

Silverware clattered to the plate as Jaime and Brienne took their seats. “Valyria?” Brynden’s voice was a whisper as he stared at Barristan. “You can’t be serious. That is not an area to journey to.”

“I am well aware, but given Ser Jaime’s vision has been true so far, King Jon insists on returning Brightroar to the living. Lord Bran provided the details in the small council this afternoon. Lord Bran warns that it is not without risk. Things lurk there still; things not of our world. We’re to find our way to the third ruined tower. That is where he last placed King Tommen Lannister II when he ventured there looking for wealth and sorcery.”

“Who will go this time?” Loras asked the question that Jaime desperately wished to know the answer to. If Brienne was going, so would he.

“I’ve little say in this assignment. Lord Bran said that all dragonriders must go to ensure safety at the ruins. Given what Bran has seen on the island, he said that Jon, Brienne, and Daenerys must stay with the dragons and circle in the sky above the city. He says…” 

Barristan paused; his jaw clenching in frustration before speaking once more. “He says that Ser Jaime must go. I disagree however. I will name myself instead and obtain Jon’s approval before we depart.”

“What? That’s absurd.” Jaime’s voice carried down the table and took aim at Barristan. All eyes looked at him in surprise. Regardless of the personal relationship between Jaime and Barristan, the older knight was the Lord Commander and not to be argued with.

“Your hand is broken. If my wife is going, I am going. I’m perfectly healthy and the maester cleared me for all activity.” 

Barristan’s eyes narrowed and he twirled his fork in the left hand. “My hand is fine.”

Jaime snorted and leaned back in his chair. “Truly? Your hand is fine? Why is it still bandaged? Why did Loras say just yesterday how impressive it was to watch you fight a White Walker with your left?”

Barristan’s eyes darted to Loras. The younger knight slunk back in his chair as though trying to hide. Clearing his throat, Barristan feigned indifference. 

“We’ve had this debate before. I can fight with both hands just as I can wield two blades if I so choose. You will oversee things in my absence again.”

Irritation built deep within. Jaime knew that he should hold his tongue, but Barristan’s attitude of late made it difficult. “No. Lord Bran said that it should be me.”

“I am in charge of this Kingsguard, Ser Jaime. Not you and not Lord Bran. He has informed the small council of what his vision shows; of what dangers are on that bloody island. I will be the one to take this risk. I’ll not ask any of you to enter those ruins.”

Brienne tried to get Jaime’s attention, but he could not pry his eyes away from Barristan. “And Bran said that I’m to wield the sword in question just as Brienne is to wield Dark Sister. Why should you take on such a risk for a sword that I’m meant to hold!? I’m perfectly capable of…”

“I said no! You will stay here.” Barristan’s left fist slammed into the table. The plates, silverware, and cups shook on impact. 

Brienne’s hand reached for Jaime’s knee, but he could not be calmed. The way that Barristan was speaking to Jaime reminded him far too much of Tywin.

_‘You will do this’ and ‘You will obey me.’ How perfect. I fancied him a father figure, and it is precisely what he offers._

The words left Jaime’s mouth before he could think better of them. “Oh good. I was starting to miss Tywin. Glad to have him back.”

An uncomfortable silence hung over the table. Jaime looked to his lap and waited for the storm to come. To Jaime’s left, Brynden sucked in a sharp breath and muttered something indiscernible. The sound of a chair shoving backwards filled the room and was soon followed by retreating footsteps. 

Glancing up through his lashes, Jaime could see that Barristan was gone. He chastised himself inwardly for behaving inappropriately. 

_Lovely. Now I’ve been able to disappoint my lord commander as I always disappointed Tywin._

Wordlessly, Brynden stood from his chair and grabbed Jaime’s arm. The older knight tugged Jaime from his seat and pulled him from the room without explanation. Dragging Jaime down the hallway, Brynden shoved Jaime into a side room and glared at him.

“What is wrong with you?”

Jaime huffed in annoyance and looked away. “I’ll apologize to him for speaking out of turn. Still, he’s in no condition to be swinging a sword about in Valyria if he can’t even keep from injuring it in the bloody yards.”

The words did little to temper the rage radiating off Brynden. He stalked forward slowly with his arms crossed. Despite their similar height, Jaime felt small; like a tot being chastised. 

“The yards? What are you on about?”

“Truly? I thought it was you who got the better of him.” Jaime shrugged as he offered additional context. “Brienne wouldn’t have and the others aren’t skilled enough.” 

Brynden’s eyes narrowed, but then something flashed across his face. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Brynden rubbed his face with his hands and exhaled loudly. The room was sparsely decorated, but Brynden dragged a chair over and barked at Jaime to sit before pulling over another. “He broke his hand beating Littlefinger to a bloody pulp. I don’t mean that figuratively either. It took me and two Gold Cloaks to pull Barristan from Petyr. His face was a pile of broken bones, flesh, and brain matter spread out under Barristan’s fist. I’ve never seen a man so enraged.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “Why the hells did he do that?”

A loud snort echoed off the stonewalls in the room. “By the gods, what do you dolts talk about all day while you’re joined at the hip? Are you sewing in that office of his? Having tea perhaps and clucking like a bunch of hens?”

“What are you on about? I help him with his work. Transcribing all manner of nonsense for him or copying letters he needs sent out.”

Brynden shook his head as he muttered to himself. “I’ve never met two people so shit at communicating. You hide behind cutting remarks and he stares at fucking rugs. The pair of you are useless.”

Jaime reeled back as if slapped. “I communicate just fine!” 

“Oh? Tell me then, what are your feelings on Ser Barristan?” Brynden raised a challenging brow and leaned back in his chair. 

_My feelings on Barristan? What is this conversation? I’ll certainly not discuss feelings with the Blackfish._

“I _feel_ he overstates his ability with the left, though I suppose that’s why they call him Barristan the Bold.”

With a grunt of irritation, Brynden stood from his chair. He leaned down over Jaime and spoke through gritted teeth. “I thank you for making my point. That man mourned the loss of a son when he thought you dead. Now he tries to ensure you live to see your babe’s birth, even if it means his own life, yet you insult him by drawing comparisons to Tywin.”

The reprimand was startling. Before Jaime could fully process it, Brynden left the room, leaving Jaime staring at the floor. Standing slowly, Jaime dragged his feet towards Barristan’s study. Judging by the light coming from under the door, he was inside and likely pouring through the paperwork that Jaime failed to tend to.

Jaime knocked lightly and waited for a call to enter. Brynden’s words rolled around in his head as he formed an apology. 

“Enter.”

Stepping inside, Jaime noted Barristan seated behind his desk and reading through a missive. The lord commander’s eyes lifted from the paper and immediately lowered after identifying Jaime. 

Cleaning his throat, Jaime closed the door and spoke quietly. “I apologize for speaking out of turn. Whatever punishment you deem fit, I’ll endure it without complaint.”

Barristan hummed in reply, but kept reading through the letter in his left hand. As his eyes landed on Barristan’s bandaged right hand that rested on the table, Jaime felt guilt swell within.

“I did not intend to draw comparison to my father. He was a miserable shit. You’re nothing like him… I was just angry.”

Once more, Barristan hummed from behind his desk. The lack of verbal reply made Jaime question Brynden’s earlier words. Taking a deep breath, Jaime stepped forward; his eyes dropping to the floor. 

_Gods. I should have replaced that rug when he was gone._

“I was not aware you disliked Littlefinger so much that you would honor him with your right fist.”

The words got Barristan’s attention. His eyes glanced away from the missive in hand and Jaime could see the older knight’s mind working. “What did Ser Brynden say to you?”

“Only that Littlefinger’s face is incapable of holding funeral stones at his eyes.”

Barristan sighed at the words. Placing down the missive in hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anything else he thought to share?”

Jaime could not bring himself to disclose the rest of Brynden’s comments. They felt too presumptuous on the Blackfish’s part. With a small shrug, Jaime refuted it. “Nothing of consequence.” 

Barristan’s fingers tapped lightly on the table as he digested the response. His eyes scanned the room, settling temporarily on the rug at Jaime’s feet. “You’ll stay here, Ser Jaime. I will go to Valyria with our Targaryens.”

Closing his eyes, Jaime took a deep breath and considered his words before he spoke. “I don’t want you risking your life for a sword that Bran claims I must wield. You are injured whereas I am fit for duty. You forget your own welfare in this.”

“You are quick to forget the father that your child will need.”

Jaime’s fingers tapped angrily against his side. “Bran _saw_ me there. He said that I need to go.”

“And in two days' time when we leave, Lord Bran will _see_ you here. You said it yourself. They’re just silly dreams. Will there be anything else, Ser Jaime?”

Barristan raised a challenging brow, but Jaime knew not to defy him again. For a fleeting moment, Jaime again thought of Tywin, but he knew it was unfair to compare the two men. Barristan had done more for Jaime in a year than Tywin had bother to do in a lifetime. 

Shaking his head in refute, Jaime moved towards the door. As his hand reached out for the handle, Jaime took pause. He despised discussing matters of the heart, nor did he wish to feel anymore vulnerable than he already did, but it needed saying. 

Without looking back at Barristan, Jaime spoke just loud enough for the aged knight’s ears. “I think you’re quick to forget the grandfather that my child will need.”

“Selwyn Tarth is in fine health, Ser Jaime. I’m certain he’ll enjoy teaching your child all manner of things.”

Jaime glanced over his shoulder and noted Barristan looking at the missive he had set down. With his left hand, Barristan grabbed a blank piece of parchment to form a reply; his right hand struggling with the quill as he grimaced from the pain.

“Lord Selwyn can’t teach his grandchild to fight with two swords or how to take wounds from an arrow, spear, _and_ sword during battle, only to keep fighting.”

The words made Barristan pause once more and Jaime left the room without further complaint or exposure of his regard for the man who he considered the closest thing he had to a father.

Two days later as Jaime watched Brienne preparing to leave for Valyria, a knock came at the door. Brienne moved quickly to answer it as Jaime sat on the bed sulking. When she opened the door, Barristan stepped inside.

“Ready to depart?”

Always with a warm smile, Brienne nodded. “Just about.”

“Good.” Barristan’s eyes drifted to Jaime. A touch of uncertainty glistened in his eyes. “Suit up, Ser Jaime. We’ve Targaryens to guard. Ser Brynden will tend to things here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ser Dad and Ser Son process feelings and communicate as well as Braime usually does. It is known.


	64. Jaime XXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime, Barristan, and team Targaryen arrive in Valyria.

Jaime held close to Brienne as they approached Valyria on the back of Viserion. If what dangers lurked below were as Bran described, Jaime imagined it might be on a one-way trip. Some years ago, his uncle, Gerion, had set sail for Valyria in an attempt to recover Brightroar, but no one had seen or heard from him since.

It took days to reach the ruined city, but when they did, the dragons circled Valyria before Daenerys found an appropriate area to land. To describe the city as ruined seemed an understatement. Jaime’s jaw went slack as he took in the state of the dilapidated structures below. The Dragonpit, when it still stood, had looked more inhabitable by comparison. 

The dragons lowered to the ground, but the great beasts seemed agitated the lower they flew. Holding tight to Brienne, Jaime breathed in her scent and committed it to memory. If he died that day, he wanted his senses consumed with all things Brienne. 

His hand danced over the swell at her belly. Unlike prior days, Brienne had forgone her armor. The breastplate no longer fit over her swell, and Jaime lamented wearing his own armor which prevented him from sitting closer. 

Brienne glanced back over her shoulder; her eyes meeting Jaime’s. “Please be careful, Jaime. I can’t lose you again.”

“You never lost me, princess. I was having a nap the other week after overeating.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Brienne huffed in annoyance. Jaime nuzzled closer and smiled into her skin. “I have the coin and a one-handed knight to protect me. Everything will be fine.”

“Gods. This is an awful idea.” Brienne grumbled as she placed her hand over Jaime’s fingers which splayed over her swell. 

Viserion touched down and cried out his displeasure. The dragon was eager to ascend quickly to safety. Jaime’s lips met Brienne’s before he climbed down from the dragon. Whispered words of love passed between them before Viserion began to flap his wings. The pressure of the air flying into Jaime’s face forced him to look away. 

As he closed his eyes and covered his head, Brienne called out. “We’ll just be above! Return to this spot!”

When the dragon was well enough away that Jaime wasn’t assaulted by forceful winds, he glanced up at Brienne. Even from the distance, Jaime saw the worry in her eyes. A hand came to Jaime’s back and urged him forward. 

“Come on. Lets not delay. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

Barristan moved past Jaime; his hand falling from Jaime’s back. Glancing behind him, Jaime noted Drogon back in the sky above near Viserion and Rhaegal. 

“It feels as welcoming as when Aerys summoned us to the throne room.”

At Jaime’s comment, Barristan grumbled, but trudged forward. The grass had been overrun by long weeds. Barristan cut through them with his blade; his left hand moving back and forth across his body. Bandaging still covered Barristan’s right hand. Maester Harmon felt it could be some weeks before Barristan was fit to use it again.

Looking forward, Jaime appraised the ruins before them. Waterways cut through the doomed city, but the dragons had left them close to the third tower and in a path that didn’t require crossing by boat. Of course, that hardly helped to ensure their safety.

To Barristan’s words, Jaime did not like the feel of the place. Something dark and unseen seemed to follow their every step. Stranger still was the lack of sound. No animals seemed to take residence and the only sound was that of rushing water. 

Glancing backwards, Jaime scanned the area. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as a feeling of being followed sent a chill down Jaime’s spine. Barristan’s cautious voice filled the space around them.

“Stay close and keep your eyes open.”

Turning forward, Jaime could see that the distance between him and Barristan had increased. Unsheathing his own sword, Jaime closed the distance to Barristan. Neither man had Valyrian steel to protect them. The group felt it best in case they should die. It seemed absurd to attempt retrieving Valyrian steel, only to lose more along the way.

Since the awkward supper and conversation in Barristan’s office, Jaime had kept his distance. It seemed clear to Jaime that Barristan preferred it that way. Their footsteps through the overgrown weeds offered more sound between them than words of late. As they neared the tower, Barristan peered inside the entry point. 

Jaime watched as the man’s brows furrowed. “It’s quite dark inside. Don’t dally.” 

“No? I thought it might be fun to have a nap or look for dragon eggs.”

Barristan only sighed and slowed his progress as he stepped inside the tower. His eyes moved in every direction as he appraised the space. When Jaime stepped through the doorway, he felt something awful pushing in from all angles. There was a darkness to the tower that unnerved Jaime.

Barristan’s right hand reached back and grabbed the top edge of Jaime’s breastplate. “Listen to me. If anything engages me, flee. Do not try to fight whatever has taken residence here.”

The command was not one that Jaime would follow. No matter what Barristan’s opinion of him, Jaime would never leave the older knight behind. 

“I’m sorry did you say something? I wasn’t listening.” 

Barristan’s eyes were a warning, but before he could comment, something in the darkness moved across the space before them. Both men froze and raised their blades. They stood back to back and each appraised the space before them.

Cautiously, Barristan’s feet moved forward and Jaime followed. The only light afforded was what little filtered through the ruined windows of the tower. The overgrown vines on the outside of the stone walls blocked much of the sunlight, but left just enough to see a few feet before them.

Finding the circular staircase that Bran described, the Kingsguard ascended slowly. The stonework crumbled below their feet as they ascended the steps. Jaime felt his heart hammering in his chest as he dragged his left hand along the wall. His hand acted as a guide in the darkness. In the stairwell, there was no light to guide their path. Both Jaime and Barristan had to rely on their senses alone.

Jaime’s mind wandered to what could have driven Gerion to explore these lands in search of a sword. Gerion had no way of knowing the true need for Brightroar, and having it purely for pride seemed foolish given where it needed to be recovered from.

A sound from above made Jaime and Barristan take pause. Something was breathing heavily several feet ahead of them. The sound was not human, nor was it welcoming. Barristan’s bandaged hand pushed against Jaime’s chest. 

The man’s words were a whisper, but firm and commanding. “Stay behind me.”

Jaime thought the request absurd. He had two hands and youth, whereas Barristan was wounded and getting on in age. Shoving past him, Jaime gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. Any protest on Barristan’s lips was silenced by a slithering sound just ahead. 

_ Seven hells. What is that? _

Jaime reached for his dagger to hold two weapons in hand. Whatever creature was before them was not afraid. If anything, it was challenging them to move further into the darkness. Taking slow steps forward, Jaime continued to sway from left to right on the steps to block Barristan from passing. 

Abruptly, something brushed against the top of Jaime’s head. On instinct, Jaime slashed his sword into the air from left to right. Something squealed in an unhuman manner. A thick sludge fell onto Jaime’s hair and face as something dropped with a thud at his feet.

Whatever Jaime injured retreated into the darkness and back into whatever hole it had crawled out from. Jaime wiped away whatever was on his face and moved forward once more. 

“Do I want to know?” Barristan questioned Jaime uneasily.

“If you find out, don’t tell me.”

Their feet carried them to a landing and sunlight kissed the corridor stretching out before them. They had reached the next level, but Bran said they needed to move higher still.  _ The third tower and the third level.  _

As Jaime glanced up into the darkness, Barristan moved to his side with wide eyes. He grabbed his cloak and cut a piece using his sword. Wordlessly, Barristan took the shredded piece of cloak and wiped at Jaime’s head. Holding the cloak towards the light from the hallway on the second level, both men’s eyes went wide. A dark sludge lined the white cloak, but white worms roughly three inches in length wiggled atop it. 

Barristan threw the piece of cloak to the ground and removed his remaining cloak. Grabbing Jaime by the back of the neck, Barristan pulled Jaime down and wiped more of the substance from his head. 

Barn’s words rushed back to Jaime. __

_ “Don’t let them inside of you.” _

_ “Let what inside?” _

_ Bran shook his head; his eyes wide in fear. “You’ll see. Even in the darkness, you’ll see.” _

When Barristan had removed all of the substance from Jaime’s head, he threw the cloak to the ground. Jaime didn’t want to look, and judging by Barristan’s gasp, it was best he didn’t. Barristan’s hand reached out for Jaime’s arm and tugged him forward. 

“Keep moving.”

Whatever creature lurked in the darkness before with its heavy breathing was back, but closer. Jaime wondered if it was the same creature, or another. Surely after losing whatever part of its body that Jaime hacked off, the creature’s breathing would be more labored and its sounds more pained. 

A warm hand reached back for Jaime once more. Barristan leaned close and whispered. “We run to the next level. Better lighting.”

At Barristan’s command, they ran up the steps together. Whatever had been breathing heavily seemed to hover over them as though it was climbing the wall or ceiling. The realization was unnerving and Jaime prayed to the gods for better lighting on the next level. 

When Jaime’s feet reached the next landing, Barristan tugged Jamie into the hallway. There was better lighting and Jaime could see the outline of rundown rooms at each side. Then, something hard fell against his back. 

A squeal akin to a dying animal met Jaime’s ears. Warm, foul breath assaulted his face. Something was on top of Jaime, but Barristan’s blade thrust into its skull. More sludge trickled onto Jaime’s face as Barristan pushed the creature off. 

In the dim lighting, Jaime could see what had attacked him. There were human features to its head, but its body seemed to take on a wormlike form. A thin coating of slime covered its skin, and the eyes were a bright red. Wrinkled skin covered whatever remained of a skeletal system. 

Pouring from the wound in the creature's head, more small, white worms oozed onto the stones. Jaime’s eyes went wide as the smaller worms inched towards him. Before Jaime could react, Barristan had taken Jaime’s cloak and was wiping more of the sludge from Jaime’s back. Barristan pulled Jaime to his feet and grumbled. 

“We need to hurry. I doubt this is the only one.” 

Jaime didn’t need to be told twice. He moved quickly at Barristan’s back as the older knight led the way and glanced in each room briefly. Barristan cursed and ran a hand through his hair. “We might need to split up to cut down on how long this search will take.”

“I’ll take the left side.” Jaime moved as he spoke; his eyes scanning the long hall stretching out before them. With a nod, Barristan began to search the rooms on the right side. 

Moving into a room, Jaime stepped over piles of ancient debris. The stench in the room was overwhelming. It became quickly apparent why they heard no life outside the ruins. Anything foolish enough to come near the area seemed to have met its end inside the tower. Bones from various animals littered the floor. Covering his nose, Jaime used his sword to push aside the mix of vegetation, bones, excrement, and stones littering the floor. 

The room did not yield a sword, and Jaime moved towards the hallway to try the next room. As he emerged, so too did Barristan from the room across the hall. The lord commander appeared equally disgusted by what he encountered. 

Each man moved into the next room which produced the same result. On and on the process went for two more rooms each. Finally, Jaime came to another room that housed more than carcasses and fallen stones wrapped in mangled vines. 

Entering the room, Jaime saw something crouched in the corner. It’s head was bald and covered in the same thin film as the last creature. This one appeared more human in form; less wormlike. At Jaime’s entry into the room, the creature’s head snapped left over its shoulder. Shock rippled through Jaime as he appraised the creature. 

One green eye and one red eye met Jaime’s gaze. While the creature’s ears were mere holes at the side of its head, it still wore human clothing. The clothing was in tatters and covered in grime, but it was unmistakably Westerosi. A lion sigl was at the breast, and Jaime knew the face despite not having seen it for ten years.

“Uncle Gerion…”

The creature that was once Jaime’s uncle stood and snarled. Any ability to communicate with words seemed long gone as it slowly shuffled towards Jaime. All but three fingers were missing and rounded stubs took their place. Jaime felt bile rise in his throat as he lifted his sword. Then, he saw it. 

Gerion had Brightroar strapped to his hip. Given Gerion’s inability to grip the hilt, he merely shambled forward. Jaime’s eyes moved down Gerion’s body. It was as though his thighs were beginning to fuse together. He slithered more than walked, leaving a trail of thick sludge on the floor.

_ This place seems the gateway to the seven hells.  _

“Uncle… please…” Jaime raised his sword defensively.

“That is not your uncle, Jaime.” Barristan’s bandaged hand pulled Jaime back towards the hallway. Barristan used his shoulder to stand before Jaime. 

Heavy breathing at Jaime’s back captured his attention. Glancing down the hallway, Jaime’s eyes went wide. More creatures in various stages of transformation moved slowly towards them. Red eyes shone brightly out in the darkened ruins. 

“Barristan…” Jaime’s voice did not sound his own. Fear was not something that Jaime felt often, but he felt it now as he never had before. The two kingsguard backed up slowly, but then Barristan paused. 

Gerion lunged forward abruptly. His mouth opened wide to reveal a circle of jagged teeth. Barristan’s left hand slashed out with a strong cut of the sword. He cut deep into Gerion’s neck, sending more sludge and worms to the ground. 

With another quick cut of his blade, Barristan killed the creature that Jaime once called ‘uncle’. He crouched at Gerion’s side and removed the sword belt and sword. As he did, Jaime covered Barristan’s back. The approaching creatures began to surge forward and Jaime cut through them quickly.

To Jaime’s horror, more of the creatures began to make themselves known. Some that were more wormlike began to descend from the ceilings and down the side walls. Jaime began to cut through anything nearby, but a hand grabbed his shoulder. 

“Lets go! Now!”

Both men turned back towards the steps, but to their dismay, their exit was blocked by more of the creatures. Heavy breathing and foul smelling breath invaded the space. Standing back to back, the Kingsguard began to cut their way through. 

The creatures did not pose much of a threat. They were incapable of holding a weapon, but their mouths opened wide enough to do ample damage with their teeth should they get close enough. 

More so, it was the parasitic worms that worried Jaime. It seemed to be the reason for Bran’s warning. Surely it was the worms that infected and transformed the men.

With every cut of their sword, sludge and worms sprayed all over the floor, Barristan, and Jaime. They moved forward as quickly as they could, but there were too many creatures. Jaime could feel the creatures closing in. It was a suffocating sensation and Jaime began to panic.

“Seven hells!” Barristan grunted as he lunged forward and cut through another creature. Without warning, he ran ahead and cut wildly through the creatures blocking the stairs. 

At Barristan’s effort, Jaime turned and ran towards him. A loud scream reached his ears; too human for the creatures, and too Barristan for Jaime’s liking. Fear gripped Jaime at the thought of Barristan injured. 

Jaime could barely see and was afraid to swing his sword as though he might cut through Barristan. “Barristan!”

“This way, Jaime. Quickly!” Barristan’s pain-filled voice guided the way in the darkness. 

Following the temporary path made by Barristan, Jaime’s feet met the steps and he slammed into the wall. A hand grabbed Jaime’s shoulder and began tugging him downward. “Hurry, Jaime!”

There was agony still in Barristan’s voice. Descending rapidly, the two knights passed the first landing. In their haste, they stopped slicing the creatures and began pushing into them. Warm breath at Jaime’s neck urged him forward. As they neared the bottom level, something heavy fell on top of them. 

Both Barristan and Jaime fell down half a level of stairs. Loud grunts of pain echoed off the stairwell as they spilled onto the bottom level. A heavy weight was atop Jaime. Opening his eyes, he could see Barristan on his chest and something large on top of the aged knight. 

The largest creature that Jaime had yet seen was on Barristan’s back. It’s mouth was wide and poised to sink into Barristan’s skull. 

Jaime’s sword hand was pinned beneath him, but he managed to free his left. Grabbing his dagger, Jaime shoved it into the creature's neck as Barristan remained pinned between them. Sludge and worms poured onto them and with great effort, the men pushed the dying creature off Barristan. As they did, more creatures moved towards them from the stairs, wall, and ceiling. 

Righting themselves, the Kingsguad retrieved their weapons and Brightroar. Shouting and waving their arms towards the sky, both men tried to get the attention of the Targaryens. 

The threat at their back was quickly noted by all three. Jon and Daenerys directed their dragons towards the ruined tower. The dragons began to pour fire onto the creatures below.

Earpiercing shrieks filled the space around them as Jaime and Barristan ran towards the clearing where they previously arrived. Brienne descended to meet their approach; her eyes wide in horror as she stared towards the ruined castle. 

Jaime felt Barristan’s pace slowing at his side. He turned and noticed Barristan struggling while clutching his arm. His right arm was bleeding substantially. On quick inspection, Jaime realized with horror that one of the creatures had bitten into Barristan’s forearm. 

Fear and panic set in as Jaime saw the worms wiggling into Barristan’s flesh. “Get to the water! We have to get those off.”

Jaime grabbed Barristan’s arm and dragged him away. At their unexpected change in direction, Brienne called out. “What are you doing!? We have to go!”

There was little time to explain as Jaime pulled hard on Barristan’s arm. Glancing towards the ruins, Jaime could see the dragons laying waste to what little remained. The sound of the dragons and dying creatures was deafening. Jaime wanted nothing more than to cover his ears and flee the area, but he needed to clean Barristan’s wound. 

Their legs carried them quickly towards the closest waterway. Jaime tugged Barristsan to his knees and plunged his arm into the water, desperately trying to wash away the worms. When he pulled Barristan’s arm out, Jaime could see that many were gone, but some had burrowed too deep. 

The expression on Barristan’s face was one of extreme pain and resignation. “We have to leave, Jaime. Leave it be.”

“No! We have to get these out!” Jaime tried grabbing at the tail of a worm. The wretched thing was buried in the wound, and the effort caused Barristan to scream aloud. 

_ Fuck! What do we do!? _

Jaime was panicking as he began to look around as though an answer might appear before them. In the distance, Jaime heard Brienne screaming at them to hurry.

Abruptly, a loud explosion caught Jaime’s and Barristan’s attention. The ground beneath them began to shake violently and encouraged them to their feet. Stepping backwards from the waterway, the knights realized what was happening. 

The ground’s violent movements began to set off a chain reaction of events. What little remained of the broken towers began to fall to the ground. A volcanic explosion in the distance began to douse the northern edge of the ruins in molten liquid. 

Without conferring, both knights began to run towards Brienne. Her eyes were frantically appraising the area as they approached. Reaching down, Brienne hoisted them atop Viserion. As quickly as was possible, the dragon began to lift into the air. 

Jaime stared down at the ground in shock. The land to the north was being encased in molten liquid and fires burned any vegetation that had grown over the stonework. Shrill cries from the creatures burning under dragonfire and scorched fields filled the air. The lakes began to boil and hiss as though water simmering in a pot over campfire. 

More explosions captured Jaime’s attention from the back of Viserion. Mountains began erupting and sending molten rocks into the air as smoke and ash began to suffocate them. Drogon and Rhaegal were desperately trying to flee the area; both dragons struggling from the effort.

Drogon cried out as a molten rock crashed into his tail. The impact nearly sent Daenerys falling to the ground, but she held on as the dragon began to plummet. Jaime’s eyes went wide, but at the last moment, Drogon righted himself and moved away from the area. 

For what felt an eternity, the dragons danced around exploding mountainsides, intense heat, and blinding ash. When at last they found themselves over calm seas, Jaime glanced back in the direction of Valyria. A thick blanket of black smoke covered the area. Even at a distance, the heat was overwhelming. 

Glancing down at Brightroar, Jaime grumbled more to himself than Barristan or Brienne. “This fucking sword better perform magic after all that.”

Jaime glanced at Barristan who sat between him and Brienne. Intense pain shone in his eyes and his face was pale. 

The older knight’s arm was still bleeding and the worms were burying deeper into his flesh. Jaime wanted to scream and fly back to ensure every last creature was dead. The journey west would take days to complete just as it had taken days to arrive at Valyria. 

“Brienne, Ser Barristan needs aid. He won’t hold out for days.”

Brienne glanced back at Barristan’s arm and grimaced. “What happened?”

_ Gods. Don’t ask.  _

The horror on Jaime’s face seemed answer enough. Brienne shook her head before glancing towards Jon and Daenerys. They were just ahead and to the right of Viserion. It was impossible to have a meaningful conversation from such heights, but Jaime needed to speak with them immediately. 

When they stopped for the night, Daenerys gathered they were somewhere near Volantis. 

“We need a healer. Ser Barristan has  _ things  _ in his arm!” Jaime was beside himself with worry, but the others hardly knew what to do. 

A light sweat coated Barristan’s brow as he writhed in pain and clutched his arm. Jon crouched at Barristan’s side and gripped his shoulder. “We need Bran. I doubt any healer is going to know what to make of this.”

“Bran is  _ not  _ a maester!” Jaime paced and ran a hand through his head. Frustration was building as he watched Barristan struggle through the agony of his injury and continued assault by whatever flesh eating madness was burrowing into him.

“No, but he saw these things in his vision. He can see how they were healed before, and inform Maester Harmon of what to do.”

Jaime dropped to his knees at Barristan’s side. “That will take days! He needs help now.”

“Jaime…” Barristan’s voice was weak as he called out. “...home. We go home.”

Jaime pounded the ground in frustration. “Home is too far away. We need to get you aid  _ now _ .”

A small laugh pushed past Barritan’s lips as he reached for Jaime’s arm. “Enough. We go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking many liberties with the Princess Aerea disappearance and return from Valyria. More of Princess Aerea in the next chapter too.


	65. Barristan II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barristan recovers from the ordeal in Valyria. He wakes up to a surprising visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has more detail of Princess Aerea Targaryen (from Fire & Blood) as noted in the last chapter. That part I did keep to book canon (it’s gross and I’m sorry 🤢).

Barristan faded in and out of consciousness for days. The pain in his arm was excruciating and unlike anything he experienced before. More than the pain, fear coursed through Barristan at the knowledge that something was trying to burrow _inside_ him. 

He could feel jagged teeth eating away at his flesh. A strange sensation would sweep up his arm as the worms wiggled their bodies to push deeper. Through it all, Barristan reminded himself that it was worth it.

Bran’s vision was coming to fruition. They had Brightroar, and more importantly, everyone was safe. Entering the ruins with Jaime had been frightening. It was nearly impossible to see through the darkness, and fighting with one hand proved difficult. When the walls seemed to be closing in on them, Barristan knew that he had to see Jaime to safety. Charging the creatures to clear a path seemed the only option at the time.

It was then that one of the creatures bit into him. Barristan had braced for pain, but he had not expected _that_. Everything had been a blur after feeling jagged teeth tearing into his flesh. His body ached from the tumble down the stairs, and his agony was only replaced by terror when the area began imploding. 

Now as Viserion approached King’s Landing, Barristan found himself struggling to remain conscious. He had a fever from the wound that was rivaled only by the intense agony. At several points on the return home, Barristan blacked out from the affliction. Each time, he awoke pressed between Jaime and Brienne. 

The pair kept him upright and secure to the dragon, but Barristan worried that at any point, his weight would be too much to bear.

As Barristan’s head lolled from side to side, hands guided him down from the beast. Everything was a blur and voices drifted in and out. 

_Jaime’s voice. “Get Bran and the maester! Quickly!”_

_Brienne’s voice. “Here… in his arm! They’ve been burrowing inside.”_

_Bran’s voice. “Ice is the only way to remove and kill them.”_

_Maester Harmon’s voice. “Hurry! Into the bath!”_

Darkness consumed Barristan. A shock tore Barristan from sleep as he was lowered into an ice bath. His fevered body sizzled and multiple hands held his arm under water. Through blurry vision, Barristan saw figures all around him. 

_Jaime’s voice. “How many!? Is that all of them!?”_

_Maester Harmon’s voice. “By the seven… what are those things…”_

_Ned’s voice. “Bran, this better have been worth it!”_

Barristan slipped into unconsciousness again. In sleep, Bran was there, or rather, Bran’s voice. 

“Ser Barristan. He would not have survived alone. I… miscalculated the threat. I’m sorry. It was so dark and I couldn't see well. I was... afraid... to linger too long.”

Barristan glanced around, but he saw nothing in the darkness. “Am I… did I die?”

_Gods. Tell me it was worth it. Tell me they’ll all be safe from this effort._

“No, you’re not dead. You’re just… near death. It’s the only way that I can do this. I need to show you _why_.” 

It was dark. Too dark for Barristan to see. A chill ran down his spine as Barristan feared he was still in the ruins at Valyria. 

Bran’s voice came closer, and slowly, Barristan saw the outline of the boy’s face. A small smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “Take my hand. I need to show you now.”

Barristan hardly had time to consider Bran’s words as he gripped the boy’s hand. As Barristan’s hand met the warmth of Bran’s, the space around them filled with light. They were in the Red Keep, but things were _different_. 

Targaryen sigils adorned many of the walls and carvings in the room. They were in the maester’s chambers, but Harmon wasn’t there. A young girl was writing in pain on an exam table. Barristan’s brows knitted in confusion as he watched a maester tend to the girl.

Stepping to his side, Bran gave context. “That is Princess Aerea. She disappeared for a year on the back of Balerion. The dragon took her to Valyria, and this is how she returned. Her fever was much higher than yours and her eyes were bleeding. The red eyes you saw on those creatures… it’s from the bleeding.”

At Bran’s words, the maester gasped and turned to another man in the room. "There’s something inside her. It’s… it’s moving." 

Barristan watched in horror as they tried to give the girl poppy to aid the pain. Her body appeared emaciated with barely any meat on her bones. 

Bran’s voice captured Barristan’s attention as he described what was happening. “The girl has too much Valyrian blood. The worms are the unintended product of fire magic. They can’t turn those with Valyrian blood the same way they do others. Others become those… things… you saw.”

On the maester’s table, the girl begged for death and it broke Barristan’s heart. Her skin was boiling before everyone’s eyes and smoke poured from every orifice, but they could do little for her. It wasn’t until they dropped her in an ice bath that everything stilled. The wretched sound of the creatures dying reminded Barristan of the sounds he heard in Valyria. 

The worms poured out from the girl’s body after having claimed her life.The worms varied in size; some as long as an arm. 

“They fed on her body. She was less hospitable a host than those of other bloodlines. Too young to offer much meat. Too Valyrian to transform her. A year in Valyria did this to her. I only show you this so you understand what has happened. All the worms died in the bath when she was lowered into it. Rest assured, all yours are dead and removed. They had not fully burrowed _yet_ and they exited through the wound at your arm. I also show you this to explain _why_.”

“Why what? This is awful.” Barristan’s nose crinkled as he watched the dead girl’s body still sizzling where ice met fire. 

“How we win.” There was an innocence in Bran’s voice, and Barristan had to remind himself that the boy was only ten. Glancing to his side, Barristan watched hope swirl in the boy’s eyes.

“I saw _this_ before you went to Valyria. The creatures of Valyria, like most things from the lost city, are of fire magic. Ancient Valyrians used sorcery, or rather, fire magic. Dragons and worms. Valyrian steel. Their teachings died in the Doom. It is why we can no longer make Valyrian steel. When we lost the city, we lost its secret. Fire magic is attempted by some still, but none have mastered it as the ancient Valyrians did. Valyrian steel is forged using fire magic. Just as cold can defeat fire magic, fire can defeat ice magic. The Night King was created using ice magic.”

Barristan’s brows furrowed at the words. The tales Bran told were expected for a boy of his age not yet removed from the influence of stories meant to keep him abed. Despite the absurdity of it, Barristan had seen the dead born of ice magic, and now he had seen the creatures born of fire magic. 

“So, that is why you wanted us to gather as many valyrian steel weapons as we could?”

_Jon has Longclaw. Jaime has Brightroar. Brienne has Dark Sister. Ned and Robb have half of Ice each._

Shaking his head, Bran sighed. “We have six now, but Ice is not among them. The blade is strong enough to kill the White Walkers, but… it is ruined. I don’t think it could kill the Night King. When it was reforged, much of the magic binding it was lost. It still contains _some_ of course, but… it will never be the same. Still, it will keep my father and brother safe. They can fell wights and White Walkers, but they won’t be near the Night King. It won’t be either of them.”

“What won’t be either of them?” Barristan appraised Bran; confusion writ across his face.

“To end the Night King. I surpassed the Bloodraven’s powers when I learned from him. I could venture further back in time. From what I’ve seen, and the paths we could go down, I don’t see that it can be either of them to end the creature. Jon will have Longclaw. Ser Jaime will have Brightroar. Ser Brienne will have Dark Sister. There are three others with owners. House Tarly has Heartsbane. House Corbray has Lady Forlorn. Littlefinger had a Valyrian steel dagger, though I don’t think you took the time to notice it at his hip.”

Bran smirked at Barristan before continuing. “Ser Brynden has it now, though he has no idea it is Valyrian steel. He never unsheathed it. He left it in the storage room in the White Sword Tower along with a few other things collected from Littlefinger’s body. There is another we’ll need. You must wield it.”

“Me?” Barristan’s eyes narrowed in question. 

A youthful sparkle shone in Bran’s eyes. “Of course. You’re Ser Barristan the Bold. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Greatest living swordsman. You will wield Blackfyre; Aegon the Conqueror’s sword.”

Barristan snorted and shook his head. “That sword is long lost. Rumors suggest that Ser Aegor, one of King Aegon IV’s bastards, took it overseas when he started the Golden Company. Do you mean to have us battle the whole of the Golden Company for a sword?”

“No. I mean for you to ride to Summerhall to claim it. It was recovered at King Aegon V’s behest and brought there to the doomed summit. Even wildfire could not consume that blade.”

_Wildfire? That was wildfire which claimed them? We thought it a great tragedy, but wildfire?_

As if sensing Barristan’s thoughts, Bran looked up at the older knight with sorrowful eyes. “Aerys did it. He knew that King Aegon was going to name Prince Duncan as heir once more. The crown wouldn’t pass to his father, and Aerys _did_ something about it. It was the beginning of his love for the substance.”

Bran grabbed Barristan’s hand and spun him around. When Barristan looked up, he was no longer in the Red Keep, but instead, he was at the ruins of Summerhall. He had seen the ruins before, but knowing now what Aerys did gave the site new meaning. With a sorrowful sigh, Barristan took a step forward.

_This shouldn’t have happened. How different our kingdoms might have been had Aerys not succeeded in such destruction._

“This way, Ser Barristan.” Barristan forgot that Bran had been holding his hand. The young boy tugged him forward into the ruins. They stepped over debris and overgrown vines that reached out for their limbs. What little remained of the holding was in disrepair. Bran let go of Barristan’s hand and walked deeper into the piles of stone. 

Suddenly he stopped and spun around. “This was the room that King Aegon was in with his eldest son, Prince Duncan. Jenny was with child. A child who would never see the light of day. They sat here as Ser Duncan gave them Blackfyre. They wanted Ser Duncan to wield it in defense of their line. He was their Lord Commander. Protector of House Targaryen. Under these stones, you’ll find it.” 

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “This shouldn’t have come to pass. If only we had Ser Jaime around then.”

“If only they had you. You would have stopped Aerys then. It was before your Kingsguard vows. You would have stopped it. Aegon the Conqueror wielded Blackfyre to conquer the kingdoms. You’ll wield Blackfyre to save them, but first, you need to wake up.”

Before Barristan could reply, Bran’s small hand shoved him hard in the chest. For such a young boy, the impact was strong and Barristan winced. When he opened his eyes, a pair of green eyes were staring down at him.

  
  


“He’s awake! Get the maester!” Jaime hovered over Barristan; his head turning as he barked orders at whoever was in the room.

A pair of retreating footsteps echoed off the walls, but another pair of footsteps approached. “Move, boy! Give him some space.”

Genna Lannister came into view. Her eyes shone with worry as her hands cupped Barristan’s face. “You great dolt! What were you thinking!?”

Barristan groaned and tried to bat Genna away, but his limbs were heavy and sore. The momentary irritation in Genna’s eyes gave way to worry. Over her shoulder, Jaime came back into view. 

“I told you…”

Genna offered a dismissive wave and interrupted Jaime. “Enough, Jaime! Go help Brynden. You’re annoying me.” 

“I’m annoying you!? You just showed up and started pestering everyone! You can’t just…” Before Jaime could finish, Genna rolled her eyes and rounded on him. Shoving Jaime from the room, Genna barred the door and scolded Jaime; yelling at the wood door before her. “I said go help Ser Brynden.”

Barristan watched as Genna slowly made her way back towards him, muttering complaints as she went. Sitting on the bed with a sigh, Genna appraised Barristan.

“I leave the two of you alone, and you both nearly get yourselves killed! At least Jaime had no idea the danger he faced with that bloody apple, but you! What’s your excuse!? Valyria!? The pair of you deserve each other! Fools!”

Genna huffed in annoyance; her arms crossing over her chest as she looked away and began muttering once more. 

_Wonderful. I enjoy waking up to a tonguelashing._

Despite the abrupt scolding, Barristan couldn’t help but wonder what Genna was doing there. “Why are you here?”

Genna’s head snapped to Barristan. Disbelief clouded her face as she snorted. “Why!? You send me a letter saying my troublesome nephew is on his deathbed from poison! What would you have had me do? I left at once, and arrived to find you fools in Valyria! You… you with a broken hand! Jaime likely yet recovered.”

“He was cleared by the maester.” Barristan grumbled and shook his head. In truth, he had not wanted Jaime to join them. It wasn’t until Brienne visited his office the day before leaving that Brienne pleaded her case. Pleading her case had turned into the threat of entering the ruins with Barristan herself. 

Brienne had feared what was on the island after hearing Bran’s tale. Were it not for her intervention, Barristan would have gone alone, and he knew now that he would have died. 

Genna’s tone was another reprimand as she glared at him. “And were you cleared by the maester for swordplay!? Had he cleared you for the fight north of the Wall too!?” 

They stared at one another in frustration; nostrils flaring and lips turned down. Barristan broke eye contact first. HIs eyes lifted to the ceiling and his voice spoke weakly. “I went north so that Jaime wouldn’t. I would have gone alone to Valyria too.”

Genna’s eyes misted slightly and she shook her head in frustration. “You promised to look after him.”

“And I did!” Barristan growled the words, but images of Jaime dying his arms flooded his mind and his voice softened. “Or… I tried to.” 

“You did! You protected him better than anyone else could have, but if you die… then you’ll be unable to keep the promise. Then I’d have to stay here and care for the dolt since his wife proves just as stubborn.” Genna tilted her chin up in feigned inconvenience. 

Barristan huffed a laugh; his eyes closing as pain coursed through his body. “Well I’m sorry to have almost caused you such difficulties. I’ll try harder not to die in the future.”

A warm hand reached out to grab his. Genna’s fingers curled around and dug into his palm. “I need you to try _much_ harder. I’ll have no one to write to when I’m bored. Then you’d force me to make a new friend too. You’re very inconsiderate like that.” 

Barristan’s chest shook with laughter, but the vibrations hurt to endure. “Write to your husband, Genna.”

Genna’s tone was more somber when she spoke next. “I did it. Unlike you, I keep my promises without being so bloody dramatic about it. There were no dead things and flesh eating worms involved in my annulment.” 

The words caught Barristan by surprise. Over a year ago after Genna tugged Barristan from the wedding feast, she had shared how miserable life was with Emmon. His mind wandered back to that night.

_16 Moons Earlier - Jaime and Brienne’s wedding night_

“My father made the match when I was just a girl of seven. I didn’t want Emmon anymore than I wanted countless hours of sewing lessons. My father was desperate to be well-liked, and Lord Frey took advantage; forced a second son on me. Me! The daughter of a Great House betrothed to the second son of some shit vassal. Tywin hated the match and thought it an insult, but my father insisted. What did I know? I was just a girl and did what he wanted, but I hated every day of it.”

Barristan sighed as their bodies pressed close on the chaise lounge in Genna’s room. In private, Genna was more restrained, but still a true force of a woman. Despite her scoldings, Barristan enjoyed his time with Genna. She made him laugh with her ridiculous tales and strong opinions. The conversation in her room was the most subdued he ever heard the woman.

“You did your duty to House Lannister and house Frey; gave Emmon four sons.” Barristan tried to offer some comfort, but in truth, he felt badly for Genna. He only wanted love, and would have struggled with a match made purely for political gain. Had he not entered the Kingsguard, it would have been his fate. 

“Do you truly believe that nonsense?” Genna narrowed her eyes as she awaited his reply.

With a sigh, Barristan shook his head. “No. I think its shit.”

Genna laughed lightly. “I wanted to have it annulled when my father died, and I went so far as to approach Tywin about it. It was the first time in my life that I thought he might strike me. Of course, he didn’t. Tywin was my big brother; my protector. But… he was angry at me. He said it was too late to undo, and my… _behavior…_ had already brought shame to the House.”

“Your behavior?” A question shone in Barristan’s eyes as he considered Genna.

“Come now, Barristan. Don’t play the fool. I never even tried to hide my wandering eyes. In my youth, I took lovers while Emmon sat cowering in chairs beside my brother. Useless man. I wanted a _man_. A protector. Someone… bold.” 

Genna raised a challenging brow. As Barristan’s face flushed at the words, Genna guffawed. Patting his arm, Genna smiled and shook her head. “Oh calm down, Barristan. You’re far too honorable for my taste. I said _bold_ and I didn’t mean on the battlefield. You seem rather… chaste… for my taste”

The blush on Barristan’s face deepend at the words. He cleared his throat and looked to the floor. “Apologies for not being as _bold_ as you Lannisters.”

_Gods. This woman. And don’t get me started on the boy and his inability to keep the breeches on. Lord Tyrion is another matter altogether! My gods. How has he not impregnated half the women in Westeros by now?_

Genna guffawed loudly and shook her head. “You need a good fuck. I’ll find you someone worthy… no one too whorish.”

“I don’t need a…” Barristan began to speak as his head turned to meet Genna’s eyes, but she only laughed and shook her head.

“Love then. You need that. We all do. I aim to have my marriage annulled now. Tywin is dead and I can’t live another day with that _Frey_. For once, I want to experience love.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide. “Annulled? You’re five-and-fifty!”

Genna scoffed and swatted his arm. “Are older women not allowed love!? Are you not allowed love at three-and-sixty!?”

“Our time is passed. You have a grandbabe now. Love the grandbabe and your remaining sons.”

Barristan couldn’t fathom it. Romantic love was not something he would see in his lifetime. That Genna sought it at a later age struck him given she had already built a family.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other; familial love or romantic love. The two can coexist. Look at Jaime and Brienne! They’ll have both… you wait and see. Jaime loves his family and I’m half convinced he thinks you his father.”

_The poor boy never had a true father._

“He doesn’t need an old knight like me parenting him. He just needs a bit of kindness.” Barristan muttered the words and stared at the roaring fire. 

Genna’s face fell at the words. “Please look after him. I tried to be a mother to him, but he was sent away not many years after Joanna died. He never had a true father of course. He had no one really. I had hoped he might at least find some kinship with the Kingsguard, but… he knew he wasn’t well liked. He hides behind indifference and cutting words, but he is quite sensitive.”

Barristan grimaced at the reminder of how poorly Jaime had been looked after by his sworn brothers, himself included. “I’ll look after him. You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Genna’s voice was a whisper at his side. Unexpectedly, she embraced Barristan as they sat together; her head falling to his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Barristan. I can see why Jaime looks up to you.”

  
  


Now as Barristan stared at Genna on his recovery bed, his brows furrowed. “You truly did it? You had it annulled?” 

“Have you gone deaf!? Did one of those things invade your ear too?” Genna scoffed and shook her head.

Barristan couldn’t help but chuckle at the words. For all her reprimands, nagging, and japes, Genna had a heart of gold beneath it all. _Such a Lannister._

Barristan grew to enjoy Genna’s letters in ways he had not expected. He had never had a friend before, but with Genna, the rapport felt deeper. Of course, they had shared interest in Jaime’s and Brienne’s wellbeing. They were close in age, and experienced unfair expectations from their Houses. Both longed for love, but Barristan was resigned to never having it.

True to her word, Genna had sent _emissaries_ to visit the city. Jaime had groaned in distaste when he realized his aunt’s game, but Barristan only chuckled. _“Your aunt means well. I suppose this is my reward for enduring you.”_

Now as he stared at Genna, Barristan felt a strange sensation in his chest. “So… you’ve found a lover then?”

The question surprised Genna. “No. My freedom from Emmon was more the priority than finding love. Now that I am free, I can love if it comes my way.”

A knock at the door captured their attention. Rising from the bed, Genna unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal Maester Harmon and Ned. The maester began to look Barristan over and ordered his tunic off. 

In the fall down the steps at the ruined tower, Barristan broke two ribs, though he hardly noticed it over the pain of his arm. Barristan struggled to sit upright; his face grimacing as he moved. Before he could remove the shirt, Genna was at his side and tugging it off.

“By the Seven! That looks worse than earlier.” Genna’s eyes appraised Barristan’s side. There was a deep purpling which he had yet to see for himself.

The maester appraised Barristan’s side, humming as he went. “It’s much improved actually. The swelling is better and the bandages have afforded the proper pressure and support. I’ll have them placed back on later.”

“How long have I been out?” Barristan realized he had yet to ask the question. Glancing at those standing before him, the maester sighed in reply.

“Near a fortnight. The fever was the worst of it after we removed the worms. There were some _uncertain_ days, but the wound looked much better yesterday when I changed the dressings.”

Barristan’s eyes dropped to his forearm as the maester removed the bandages. There was an ugly scar and a slight crater to his arm where the creature bit into him. Panic coursed through Barristan as he wondered if muscle tissue had been lost.

“Will I swing the sword properly?” Bracing for the worst, Barristan raised his eyes to the maester. A kind smile greeted him as Maester Harmon appraised the injury.

“Yes, though… not with the same strength nor skill. Perhaps now, Ser Jaime will best you once or twice.”

Barristan swallowed thickly at the words.

_What am I if not a swordsman? The realm doesn’t need an old man wasting a valuable spot in the Kingsguard._

To the comment about Jaime, Barristan couldn’t help but huff a small laugh. In truth, Barristan wondered if Jaime held back when they fought. At times, he appeared a boy afraid of beating his idol rather than a man looking to make a point. Nodding at the words, Barristan forced a smile and met the maester’s eyes.

“Thank you for tending to the injuries.” 

The maester applied more salve to Barristan’s forearm and appraised his ribs once more before ensuring Barristan’s general health was improved. Ned updated Barristan on the state of things. Jaime and Brynden had done a fine job of keeping the Kingsguard in order during Barristan’s recovery. 

Jon had been pleased to receive the first report back from Dragonstone noting success at discovering dragonglass. The first shipments would begin to arrive in another week. As Ned rambled, Barristan felt his eyes wander to Genna. 

When his eyes landed on her, her own darted away quickly as though she had been caught stealing sweets. Barristan hoped she might stay a while, but he would never be so bold as to suggest it. Clearing his throat, Barristan looked back at Harmon.

“How is Brienne? Is the babe well?”

The maester smiled widely as he wrapped bandages around Barristan’s ribs. “Quite well indeed. The little one has been quite active of late, and at around six moons, she is beginning to slow. Back pains more than anything, but you know how she is. She insists on doing everything that her sworn brothers do. Ser Jaime is taking most of her night shifts in addition to his own.”

Barristan sighed at the information. _He’ll wear himself out before the babe even arrives._

Grunting in irritation, Barristan asked after his own recovery. “When can I resume activities? I have some things to tend to.”

“By the gods, Barristan!” Genna snapped from the chair at his bedside. Their eyes met, and another challenge shone on her face. 

“Lord Commander, you’ve only just awoken after nearly dying. I would recommend pacing yourself better with this recovery than you did the hand.” Maester Harmon’s tone betrayed his annoyance at Barristan’s activities to the north and east. 

Still, more had to be done. Barristan glanced at Ned and spoke wearily. “I need to speak with King Jon and Lord Bran. I’ve had a vision, though something tells me that your son is quite aware of the fact.”


	66. Brienne XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 6 moons, Brienne's guard duty expectations begin to shift thanks to the help of her sworn brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Beginning of the chapter has NSFW elements.

The feel of Jaime’s warm breath and lips against her skin nearly sent Brienne over the edge. He was buried deep inside her and rocking them both slowly as his hand caressed the swell of her belly. Both had the night off from guard duty, though of late, Brienne saw fewer and fewer shifts. 

For the fortnight that Barristan was unconscious, the Kingsguard rallied around their Lord Commander. They worked as a team to draft a fair guard schedule, and those not on duty frequented Barristan’s recovery bed to help the maester change bandages, apply salve, and spoon feed Barristan water in his sleep. 

Jaime had not taken Barristan’s near-death well. He was edgy and despairing. His lovemaking with Brienne had taken on a desperate edge as he feared similar fate ever befalling her.  _ ‘I need you, Brienne. I can’t ever see you like that.’ _

Brienne held Jaime close through the nights and soothed him back to sleep when he had nightmares. Whatever he and Barristan saw inside the ruins had frightened Jaime in ways Brienne had not thought possible. 

Jaime’s hand lifted Brienne’s leg higher over his hip as he changed the angle and pace of his thrusting. The pressure was pure bliss as Brienne felt her center tightening and her release approaching. As Jaime pounded into her, Brienne felt her body explode in ecstasy. Her walls tightened around his cock as her body trembled in pleasure. 

With a strangled roar, Jaime poured his seed deep into her. They lay panting and united for some time until Jaime softened and slipped out. Their lips trailed lazily over one another before Jaime flopped to the space beside her. His arms circled around Brienne and tugged her close. 

“I don’t want you to leave for your shift.” Jaime’s voice was muffled against Brienne’s damp skin. She smiled and ran a hand through his hair before replying.

“My shift isn’t until dawn, Jaime.”

“Exactly. I don’t want you to leave this bed.” Pulling her closer, Jaime sighed into her neck. 

The smell of Jaime was intoxicating and always left Brienne wanting more. She could feel his seed dripping from her, but neither moved to clean themselves. In all likelihood, they would awake once more in the middle of the night to come together. Their coupling had been more frequent of late, and Brienne thanked the gods she was already pregnant or they would have spent all the coin in House Lannister’s purse to purchase moon tea. 

Brienne traced lazy circles on Jaime’s back as he hummed contentedly into her neck. 

“Your aunt intends to stay at least another moon turn.”

At the words, Jaime pulled his head back to meet Brienne’s eyes. “No.”

Laughter shook Brienne’s chest and she bit her lip. “Yes. She told me as much this afternoon.”

Jaime adored his aunt, but she had been a bit overbearing since their return to the Keep. According to Ned, Genna arrived two days before them. The older woman had been beside herself with worry after receiving Barristan’s missive, but she became more troubled when she learned that their group had flown to Valyria. Ned became exhausted by Genna during the days alone with her. 

_ ‘Gods. She was worse than Jaime. I see where he gets it from.’ _

Whining like a child, Jaime shook his head in refute. “Whyyyyy? Isn’t she supposed to be acting as Castellan for Tyrion?”

“Well, she has decided that you and Barristan are incapable of taking care of yourselves. She thinks you’re both too reckless. I think…”

Brienne cut herself off. She was uncertain about giving voice to her observations. At her halted thought, Jaime narrowed his eyes in question. 

“You think what?” 

Shaking her head, Brienne closed her eyes and continued rubbing Jaime’s back. “Nothing. I’m tired. Lets sleep.”

“I need to know what the princess thinks. Unfortunately for me, you always seem to have the right of it, so I hope it isn’t anything awful.” Jaime’s voice was teasing as he stared into Brienne’s eyes. 

Brienne debated whether to voice her thoughts. With a deep sigh, her eyes darted to the ceiling. “I think they fancy each other.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed in reply. “You think who fancies each other?”

“Barristan and Genna.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Jaime’s lips. The sound startled Brienne and her head turned quickly to look at him. Jaime’s shoulders shook as a fit of laughter consumed him. Unable to stop laughing, Jaime began to wipe stray tears from his eyes.

“Thank you. I needed that.” Jaime’s laughter slowly died down as he smiled widely and shook his head. “How absurd. Can you imagine it? No… don't try to imagine it. Just awful.”

“I’m not japing, Jaime. I really think they do.” Brienne felt slightly affronted at his reaction. 

_ Is it truly so hard to believe? They both seem to long for love, they’re of a similar age, they share a vested interest in Jaime, and they are both free to love. Then there’s the matter of the letters…  _

Brienne had noticed the neverending missives bearing the Lannister sigil on Barristan’s desk. At first, Brienne thought little of it. Then Jon japed about getting Barristan his own ravens in the White Sword Tower that were trained for flight to and from the Rock. 

Jaime chuckled again before shifting closer to Brienne. “Gods, I love you. Now I’ll have something to laugh about from the exhaustion that is Genna’s meddling presence.”

As Jaime nuzzled close, Brienne sighed and thought better of it than to argue with him. She surmised that it might be less awkward for Jaime to accept it as little more than an unfounded thought. They soon drifted off to sleep in a mess of tangled limbs. 

When morning came, Brienne slipped from the bed and placed a gentle kiss to Jaime’s head. She was scheduled for guard duty with Loras, and she was quite looking forward to her shift with the young knight.

Brienne and Loras were the youngest Kingsguard, and Brienne enjoyed their friendship. When Brienne slipped into the hallway, she was not surprised to find Loras leaning against the opposite wall. 

Extending his hand towards her, Loras offered an apple. “For our little knight in there. I got up early to visit the kitchens.”

Since Jaime’s near death, Brienne only consumed apples out of his presence. Barristan had asked the staff to stock the White Sword Tower with fruits other than apples. With a nod of thanks, the pair walked through the quiet halls together.

“Have you seen Ser Barristan since he awoke?” Loras raised a brow at Brienne before biting into his own apple.

_ Only from over Genna’s shoulder.  _

“Yes, though only briefly. Genna has been mothering him for the past days and I can’t get a word in.” Brienne’s tone was light as she spoke of her goodaunt. 

For as overbearing as Genna could be, Brienne knew that it came from a good place. Genna had a kind heart, and she was much more emotional than she cared to admit. When they returned to the Keep with a gravely wounded Barristan, the woman had responded as though it was Jaime being hauled inside.

Loras snorted at the words. “She’s as bad as my grandmother. The two of them were harassing Lord Stark yesterday. They were pestering him about smiling more and wearing something more colorful; that he’s a southern man while he serves as Hand.”

Brienne chuckled at the words. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she looked at Loras. “Your grandmother told me the other day that I should be wearing a dress now that I can hardly lace my breeches. I asked how I am meant to wield a sword properly in a dress, and she said, ‘The same way you wield it in ill-fitting male garb.’ Of course, Genna had her own opinion of what I’m meant to be wearing.”

Loras snorted and his curls shook wildly as his head nodded. “Sounds about right. They were plotting together to find me a match while you fools abandoned me to fly across the sea.”

“We were nearly killed in Valyria. I don’t think you missed much.” Brienne took another bite of her apple as they exited the Whie Sword Tower and headed towards Jon’s room. 

“Well I was nearly killed here! Those women are dangerous together, Brienne! They tried to match me with Sansa. Can you imagine!? She doesn't even have a decent looking brother for me to  _ befriend _ . Well, Robb isn’t so poor off, but he is rather accounted for.”

Brienne guffawed at the words. “Gods. I can’t believe your grandmother hasn’t given up that fight.”

A loud groan pushed past Loras’ lips. “My brothers are useless and somehow, that is my fault. She doesn’t understand that it isn’t a  _ choice _ . Things would be much easier for me if it were. It isn’t as though I enjoy making my life harder than it needs to be. Our sworn brothers might be understanding and supportive, but the rest of the kingdoms are not.”

Brienne sighed heavily at the words. It saddened her that Loras and others who loved those of the same sex were judged so harshly or had undesirable marriages forced upon them. True, it was no different for nobles being forced into marriage alliances for political reason, but somehow, situations such as Loras’ seemed more cruel.

“Jon is a good man and he doesn’t judge others harshly. I hope someday, he can guide Westeros down a new path that enables you to love openly.”

A warm hand came to Brienne’s back as Loras offered a small smile. “I am luckier than most on that account. The Kingsguard has afforded me certain liberties that life as a lord would not. Besides, someone has to keep the brothel well-funded.”

Loars smirked and waggled his brows; the reply drawing another loud guffaw from Brienne. Both Loras and Balon had become regular patrons of a lesser known brothel in the city; a brothel that afforded more  _ options  _ for their patrons. 

The pair had struck up a friendship after Loras had been there for Balon emotionally. Balon’s lover, Ser Caron, had felt the pressure to take his place as heir and wed a woman. 

When they approached Jon’s door, the Hound pushed off the wall with a grunt. “Took you long enough, Loras!”

“Am I to shoulder all the blame for being a few moments tardy? What of our sworn sister?” 

The Hound’s eyes softened as he looked to Brienne. “She’s already guarding someone. I can hardly consider her late.”

A teasing smile tugged at Brienne’s lips as she glanced at Loras. The younger knight waved Sandor off and took his place against the wall. Reaching into her pocket, Brienne produced a wrapped lemon cake and handed it to Sandor.

“The baker thought I deserved extra since I’m eating for two. You’re already enjoying my share of the ale. Perhaps you can help me with this as well.”

Despite his gruff exterior, the Hound was incredibly soft if one took the time to get to know him. Brienne had done just that, and she learned that he loved lemon cakes. Sandor’s eyes lit up at the offering, his hand reached out and he spoke in contrived inconvenience. 

“Always needing my help. This one time, I suppose.” The faintest smile tugged at his lips as he grumbled his thanks and retreated down the hallway.

Loras rolled his eyes at the interaction. “You win the Hound over with sweets. You win Brynden over with books of wars past. I believe Balon fell in love with you after you gifted him that marble cyvasse set. We all hear what you do to win that husband of yours over…” Loras paused to raise a sly brow as Brienne’s cheeks pinked in horror. “What about me? Where is my gift?”

“I give you the gift of your life for speaking of my wifely interactions with my husband.” Brienne’s voice was light, but laced with embarrassment as she leaned against the wall.

A loud guffaw pushed past Loras’ lips and he finished the apple in his hand. Moving from the wall, he chucked the core out the window and slowly sucked the juices off his fingers. 

“Mmmmm. So goooooddddd.” 

“You’re disgusting and I hate you.” Brienne turned away from Loras’ implied  _ interactions _ . 

Loras only laughed harder and leaned beside Brienne against the wall. “In your chambers, does he spar with a shortsword or longsword? He’s awfully  _ cocky  _ in the yards...”

_ Gods. He is lucky that I enjoy his friendship so much. Even if I wanted to answer that, I have nothing to compare Jaime’s cock to, nor would I. _

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” 

Loras snickered some more, but soon they spoke of more agreeable topics. Noise from inside Jon’s room signaled his preparation for the day. When the door opened, he smiled fondly at Brienne and Loras. 

“Morning.”

Both Kingsguard answered in unison and bowed at Jon’s presence. “Your Grace.”

They both enjoyed offering the formality to Jon out of both expectation and annoyance. Jon hated formal greetings; particularly from Brienne.

“ _ Aunt _ , you’re testing me already today.” Jon smirked as he pulled the door shut behind him. They all fell into step together as they made their way towards the hall where Jon often broke his fast.

“Have you spoken with Ser Barristan?” Jon’s brow raised in question and he looked to Brienne.

“He has been rather occupied.” Brienne smirked at Jon. He too had noticed the fondness between Genna and Barristan. Only Jaime seemed oblivious which made it all the more amusing.

With a small laugh, Jon looked down the hallway. “He intends to ride to Summerhall. He and Bran told me of another Valyrian steel sword hidden away there. I think he plans to leave on the morrow. I’m surprised he has not mentioned it yet, as I implored him to assign two other Kingsguard to the task. He can barely stand.” 

_ Oh gods. Not another adventure. _

“I’ll go with him.” Brienne sighed as they walked, but Jon seemed unimpressed with her offer.

“Perfect. I’ll have my Lord Commander still weak from near death and hindered by broken bones escorted by my aunt who is six moons with my cousin. Do you, Ser Barristan, or Ser Jaime ever take a moment to rest and recover?”

Brienne huffed in annoyance; her lips pursing together. Barristan and Jaime had been truly injured, but she was merely with child. She felt more than capable of a ride to Summerhall to retrieve a sword. 

“I rest when not on duty, and I’ve nothing to recover from except the headaches you men give me.”

Jon hummed in amusement, but said no more of it. As he did most days, Jon ate with the Starks. Arya was always at his side and yammering in his ear about her training with Jaime and Brienne. A warmth spread through Brienne as Arya spoke in praise of Brienne as though she wasn’t in the room.

Sansa and Ned usually spoke on varying topics, but strangely, Sansa no longer spoke about young lords of interest. 

“You’re five-and-ten. While I don’t wish you to be pressured into finding a husband, you did wish to stay here in order to meet young lords. You’ve turned down two invitations now with available young men who came to court you.”

Sansa’s face flushed, but she only shrugged and spoke quietly in reply. “I thought I wished to meet someone immediately, but after everything with Joffrey, I think I prefer to wait a while longer.”

_ A bit difficult to meet young men when she is joined at Tyrion’s hip most days.  _

The young pair had sparked a friendship in the past year or two. Brienne was glad to see them both enjoy one another’s company. A deep respect existed between them, and the pair had a fondness for political matters. They often debated approach on various topics, and Tyrion was eager to hear Sansa’s opinions on situations.

With a sigh, Ned’s eyes settled over Jon. “And you? Are you to formally announce that betrothal?”

Brienne bit back a wide smile as she tried to do her duty as a guard. She was not meant to contribute to such conversations; only stand in obedient silence. Still, she knew of Princess Arianne and Jon. The pair had been close since Brienne’s wedding. They wrote one another regularly after the princess returned to Dorne. Not long ago, Jon confided in Brienne that he was in love with the woman and wished to marry her.

“I… I wrote Prince Doran. He seemed most pleased with the match.” Jon’s eyes darted to Brienne; a small smile at his lips. “She’ll sail to King’s Landing in a moon turn.”

A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face. She wanted to run over and hug Jon, but she held back and let her eyes speak for her. A rare smile graced Ned’s lips. 

“Good. She’ll make a fine queen for the kingdoms. We’ll give her a proper welcome and we can discuss plans for a wedding.”

Jon straightened in his chair and met Ned’s eyes. “Daenerys has offered to help with the planning. Things are getting quite chaotic at Dragonstone with all the work to mine dragonglass, and she was hoping to stay here for a bit.”

Another knowing glance was exchanged between Brienne and Jon. When their group returned from Valyria over a fortnight ago, Genna was far from the only visitor to the Red Keep. Addam had escorted Genna to the Keep and he immediately set his sights on Daenerys. The redheaded knight’s interest was more than returned by Daenerys, and they had spent the better part of a week strolling about the gardens together.

The Starks concluded their meal and Brienne soon found herself following Jon as he prepared to enter small council. Her feet were beginning to hurt from carrying the added weight, but given her height, the swell at her belly was smaller than most women at six moons. As Brienne shifted from foot to foot, Loras moved wordlessly to a side room and returned with a chair.

He placed the chair before Brienne and raised a brow. “My legs hurt just watching you.”

“Thank you, but I’m meant to  _ stand  _ guard. Not sit guard.”

Loras chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll stand and you’ll sit. If anyone dares attack, you take out the knees and I’ll take off the assailent’s head. Far more efficient than both of us taking aim at the neck.”

Despite not wanting to appear weak or incapable, Brienne relented; a smile on her face. “Thank you.”

Of late, her sworn brothers made Brienne’s life easier by relieving her early and extending their own shifts, taking her overnight shifts, or offering a shoulder to lean on; literally. 

Not surprisingly, Balon soon came strolling down the hall just over halfway through Brienne’s shift. He smiled widely at the sight of her sitting as Loras stood guard. 

“You warmed my seat for me. Thank you, sister.” Balon nudged Brienne off and sat with a smirk. 

“You’re early.” Brienne sighed and bit back a smile at Balon. With a small shrug, Balon stretched out his legs and raised a brow.

“Am I? The bells must be off… that or my ears are still ringing from the beating you gave me in the yards yesterday.”

Brienne hummed in reply, but offered a warm smile. “Thank you. Cyvasse later?”

“Of course! I’ll beat you one of these days. I’ve been practicing with Brynden. I find that if you ask about one of his past battles, it distracts him enough and you can gain the advantage.”

Brienne left the men and smiled at the sound of Loras and Balon bantering at her back. For as much as they squabbled, they had developed a strong friendship which warmed Brienne’s heart.

When Brienne returned to her room, she was not surprised to find it empty. Brienne removed Dark Sister and placed her sword on the table. Any weight, no matter how little, felt wonderful to remove from her hips. Making her way to Barristan’s office, Brienne yawned as she ascended the stairs. She expected to find Jaime and Brynden inside, but she was surprised to find Jaime and Barristan.

“I said ‘no’. You’ve had enough adventures of late. I’ll take Brynden and Balon.” Barristan rubbed a hand down his face as he sunk back in his chair. Jaime was leaning on the wooden desk and shaking his head. 

“You’re far less capable of going than me! Let me retrieve it!”

_ Oh by the gods. They’re unbearable. _

“How about neither of you go? King Jon doesn’t seem keen on the pair of you making the trip.”

At Brienne’s voice, both men startled and looked at her. Jaime stalked towards Brienne while pointing at Barristan.

“This man thinks he’s well enough to go rushing off to Summerhall! He wouldn’t let me on a dragon after a far less grave encounter with an apple!”

“Less grave!?” Barristan stood at the words; his body swaying slightly from weakness. “Are we to have  _ this  _ argument again?”

“I’ll go there on Viserion and get it. There truly isn’t need for either of you to go.” Brienne ignored both men’s protest as she stepped further into the room. 

Before either could reply, Brienne put up a warning finger. “I already spoke with King Jon. He doesn’t wish Ser Barristan to go. Ask him for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

_ No need to mention he doesn’t wish me to go either. _

A victorious smile spread across Jaime’s face as he draped his arm over Brienne’s shoulders. “Go on… try to argue with her. It never ends well.”

Barristan huffed and narrowed his eyes at Brienne. “Lord Bran showed me the precise location. I’m awful at drawing, so taking me would be far easier.”

“That isn't necessary.” A knowing smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. “I’ll take Lord Bran. We’ll be there and back in no time if I take Viserion. There is no need to ride out anywhere.”

Both men stood before her scowling at the plan. They began to protest once more, but Brienne only smirked and spoke over them. “Shall I tell Genna that the pair of you plan to ride out to Summerhall?”

Brienne was met with no objections to her plan after that.


	67. Jaime XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackfyre is recovered and Bran shares more. Jaime has a less than pleasant dinner.

“Look at the rippled patterns in the steel!” Jaime gasped as he and Barristan huddled close inspecting Blackfyre. Before them, Genna and Brienne groaned at how the men fawned over the blade. They had been inspecting it for the better part of an hour with Bran watching in amusement to their left.

“Can we eat, or do the pair of you intend to salivate over the blade for the remainder of the day?” Genna’s barked at them from across the room; her arms crossing in annoyance.

“Then go eat, Genna! Leave us be. We’re busy.” Barristan waved her off before lowering his eyes to better inspect the patterns that Jaime’s fingers grazed over. 

Standing in a huff, Genna looked to Brienne for support. “Come now, Brienne.You and the babe need to eat. Lets leave these fools to profess their undying love for the silly little sword.”

“Silly little sword!? This is Aegon the Conqueror’s blade!” Jaime scoffed at Genna’s flippancy over the sword’s history, but Bran’s voice caught his attention.

“And now it belongs to Barristan the Bold.” 

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “It should stay with House Targaryen.”

“No. Jon wants you to have it. You’ve been House Targaryen’s protector, and now you're the realm’s protector. You’ll not find any objections from their House.” Bran spoke in a tone well beyond his years, but there was a subtle smirk at Bran’s lips that Jaime noticed.

It was strange to see how changed the boy was. Despite being so young, he spoke as though he had a lifetime of experience. Still, Bran had a youthful energy to him, and he had bursts of boyish excitement for various topics. 

“We should train with these.” Jaime spoke the words reverently as he watched the way the firelight caught the blade. At his suggestion, Brienne leaned forward; interested in the conversation for the first time in near an hour.

“Yes! Now?” Brienne’s enthusiasm caught both Jaime and Barristan by surprise. Their heads snapped up at the same time to meet Brienne’s eager expression.

LIke a boy of ten receiving his first sword, Barristan stood unsteadily. “We owe it to the kingdoms to be as prepared as possible for the dead.”

Genna looked aghast at the direction the conversation was going. “Are you all mad!? Brienne is six moons pregnant and you are half dead!”

“Which means he is half alive.” Jaime stood quickly; a wide smile on his face. “That means he’ll be at half strength, and I have a chance to win.”

Genna’s eyes went wide. “Just yesterday, you were yelling at him for descending the tower stairs on his own!”

“Yes, but now he offers a spar in the yards with Aegon the Conquerer’s sword. This is far too important, Genna. Gods. So annoying.” Jaime pushed past Genna and grabbed Brightroar from the corner. 

Moving quickly from the room, Brienne called back to them. “I’ll get Dark Sister!” 

“You’ve all gone mad. I’m going to retrieve Maester Harmon.” Genna grumbled and left the room. A swirl of skirts followed her as the door slammed shut.

Bran, Jaime, and Barristan watched her retreat with wide eyes; a small groan pushing past their lips. Taking a step forward, Barristan’s words were laced with urgency. “Hurry. They’ll not find us in the side yards.”

Between Barristan and Bran, the effort of getting to the yards took longer than usual. Barristan and Jaime had lived in the Keep long enough to know the back passages to the side yards so that Harmon and Genna would be unable to locate them. 

Brienne was already there and warming up to fight. Her eyes sparkled as she swung her sword freely. Of late, Genna had been chasing Brienne from the yards, afraid she would harm herself or the babe. 

Jaime smirked as he walked between the two hobbling men at his side. “Shall we wager on this spar? Winner gets Blackfyre for a week.”

Jaime’s face reflected his confidence. With Brienne growing round with child, and Barristan yet recovered, he could win the spar with one hand tied behind his back. As amusing as the thought was, a slight worry lingered as he watched Barristan grip Blackfyre with difficulty. A grimace lined Barristan’s face as he turned his wrist from side to side; the muscle tissue at the massive wound rippled below his skin, but it was far from healed and Harmon didn’t believe it would fully recover.

For a man his age, Barristan was in incredible physical conditioning. To see him struggle to recover near a month after his injury alarmed Jaime. Still, Barristan was bold as ever.

“Left hands.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Jaime’s lips. “These blades are Valyrian steel. Do you wish for us to lose our arms in a spar?”

Barristan raised a challenging brow and appraised Jaime. “Afraid you’re left is too weak? Ser Brienne and I spar lefthanded regularly to prepare for whatever comes our way in battle.”

_ Of course you both do. Overachievers.  _

“Perhaps just a friendly spar then. Loser gets to carry Little Ned back inside.”

Bran hobbled over to the small ledge that ran the length of the side yards. The young man’s legs tired easily, though he claimed to be much stronger than he was a year ago. 

“I’ll have a ride on your back, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime eyed the boy with an amused brow raised in challenge. “Oh? You think I can’t defeat a wounded old man and a pregnant woman.”

A faint smirk tugged at Bran’s lips before he replied. “Not when they’re going to fight together against you.”

At the words, Jaime’s eyes glanced left in time to see both Barristan and Brienne moving against him. They had mischievous looks in their eyes and reached out with their blades.

Jaime blocked their attacks quickly and spun away from the threat. “You two are meant to be the most honorable knights in the realm! This is hardly fair!”

“We are the smartest knights in the realm.” Barristan grimaced slightly as he took tentative steps forward. “You said it yourself… I’m an injured old man, and she is pregnant. We’ll beat you and then have a fair fight between ourselves.” 

Biting back a laugh, Jaime moved easily around them. Barristan began to pale from the effort, but Brienne was still in top conditioning despite her pregnancy. They danced back and forth for a bit, but then Barristan began to sway. 

Dropping his sword, Jaime lunged to catch Barristan. As he guided the older knight to the ground, he watched a sly smile stretch across Barristan’s face. Steel kissed Jaime’s neck and Brienne’s voice called out teasingly. “Yield?”

“What foul play is this!?” Jaime couldn’t believe that of all the knights, he had been played by Barristan and Brienne. When Brienne only cleared her throat to remind Jaime of his defeat, he grunted and rolled his eyes. “Yield. To seven hells with the pair of you.”

Standing upright, Jaime grumbled as Barristan stood slowly. Though he had feigned distress, he had not feigned illness. The older knight was quite pale and uneasy on his feet. 

“I yield too, Ser Brienne. The pair of you have a go at it. I need to sit.” Barristan walked slowly towards Bran and sat down with a grunt.

As enjoyable as the sparring had been, it was likely too much for Barristan so soon after his ordeal. Brienne tapped Jaime’s arm with the flat of her blade. “A spar? I’ll go easier on you this time.”

Grabbing her jerkin, Jaime tugged her close and placed a firm kiss to her lips. Breaking the kiss, he smirked and spoke suggestively for her ears only. “I can think of something better to spar for.”

Challenge sparked in Brienne’s eyes and she nodded in agreement. They circled around each other once more and began to spar. Sparring Brienne was something that Jaime could never tire of. She knew his body better than anyone, and their styles complemented each other. As they sparred, Bran and Barristan spoke in hushed tones. Whatever passed between them lifted Barristan’s spirits. 

Despite the improvement since Valyria, there was still a strain between Jaime and Barristan. He hated that he had unknowingly done something to force a distance between himself and Barristan, but he was happy to see the older knight appearing less solemn. 

When Brienne began to tire, Jaime lowered his sword. “Yield.” 

“But… you were winning.” Brienne’s voice was a question, but Jaime only shrugged.

“Perhaps we can both yield which means we’ll both  _ win _ .”

A blush spread across Brienne’s cheeks and she nodded in consent. It amused Jaime that even round with his babe, Brienne could still blush at such innuendo. 

As promised, Jaime carried Bran back inside. The boy seemed to enjoy it as much as watching the knights spar. He leaned in and spoke teasingly. “Will you pretend to be a dragon for me too? Just try not to break any ribs.”

_ Has Tyrion told him that story?  _

Bran giggled at the confusion in Jaime’s eyes. “I saw it for myself. Tyrion only told the small council… who told the Kingsguard… who told Daenerys.” 

“Have you been snooping again, Little Ned? Didn’t your mother warn you about that?” 

Bran laughed louder and shook his head. It was one of his more youthful moments, and Jaime was glad that some part of him could still be a boy despite the horrors he had seen.

“I was punished properly for snooping this time. I saw far too much of your ass for my taste.” 

At Bran’s words, Jaime felt his body tense as they continued to walk back towards the Keep. Glancing back to appraise the distance between themselves and Barristan and Brienne, Jaime cringed at the thought of what Bran must have seen.

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t with  _ her _ . It was with your true love. Not that I wanted to see that either. She’s like a sister, but… I was actually trying to see something else at the time.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime tried to meet Bran’s eyes as the boy bobbed up and down on his back. 

“What were you trying to see?”

Bran’s tone was serious when he spoke next. “It was early in my  _ travels _ . I wanted to know why you killed the mad king, but I didn’t understand what I saw that day. ‘Burn them all.’ I saw you and Brienne in the hot spring. When I heard the truth, I knew where to look next.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “Look next?”

“For how to beat the Night King. Numbers won’t matter much, because he will only continue to raise the dead as the battle rages on. Unless we can burn the bodies in time, he’ll just keep amassing more soldiers as his wights kill our army. The dragons will give us an advantage, but we need something even bigger… we need wildfire.”

Jaime stopped walking at the words. He set Bran down and crouched before him. “That is a very dangerous idea, Bran. You’ve seen what it did to the Dragonpit, correct?”

Bran nodded; a grave expression on his face. “I saw it there. I saw it at Summerhall. I saw it… before then. I know what it can do. We need to evacuate the city and use it.”

At their lack of movement, Barristan and Brienne caught up. The older knight was struggling from the exertion, but narrowed his eyes as the serious expressions exchanged between Jaime and Bran.

“What’s going on?”

Jaime stood and stared pointedly at Bran. “Little Ned has a rather dangerous idea. I’m not keen on it.”

With a sigh, Bran shook his head. “I don’t see a better way.”

Unspoken questions passed between Barristan and Brienne to Bran. With a deep breath, Bran told them what he told Jaime. 

“It doesn’t need to be in the city of course, but the wildfire is dangerous to move. I saw the care with which Aerys had it moved towards Summerhall. We should pick a location just north of King’s Landing.”

Barristan groaned and leaned against the wall of the Keep. “I understand why you suggest this approach, but Ser Jaime has the right of it. This is quite dangerous.”

“As it is dangerous to be in the city even now.” Bran’s tone had an agitated edge to it. He sulked slightly before offering more of his idea.

“If we can remove it carefully to a route that the dead will pass through, we can have the dragons light it when the dead move over it. That should eliminate most of the threat, and we only have to beat the White Walkers and the Night King.”

Brienne grimaced at the suggestion, but leaned down to meet Bran’s face. “How many does he have, Bran?”

“Right now? Over 150,000, but his army isn’t complete yet. He’ll raise all the dead from here to the Wall as he passes south, and then he’ll raise those he kills on the path to us. I can’t see the future so clearly, but I get glimpses. He could double the size of his army by the time he reaches here.”

Barristan groaned at the words. “I’ll raise your idea in small council on the morrow.”

For as much as Jaime loathed politics, he did not mind that the entirety of the Kingsguard had been requested at council meetings weekly. They were to have special sessions to prepare for the war with the dead. It had been Jon’s desire to leverage the Kingsguard as commanders in the war to come, and Jaime was eager to help construct a viable battleplan. The life of his growing family depended on their success.

When Jaime’s eyes dropped to the swell at Brienne’s belly, he resolved that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if that meant removing wildfire from the city to a new location for use against the Night King.

The rest of the walk back was interrupted by a frantic Genna. She had Maester Harmon at her heels when she stormed towards them. “Barristan Selmy! You get back to bed! You were not cleared for sparring in the yards!”

Jaime bit back a laugh as his eyes darted to Barristan. The lord commander’s shoulders rolled inward and he braced for the scolding to come. Barristan was promptly whisked off to his room, which left Bran and Brienne with Jaime. For his part, Bran was eager to return to the Tower of the Hand. Tyrion was planning to take supper with Bran as the two bonded over a shared love of history; one having read about it, and the other having witnessed it all.

As Bran hobbled down the hallway, Jaime rounded on Brienne and pinned her against the wall. “I believe we had a wager in the yards.”

Brienne’s eyes were a warning as Jaime’s hand trailed down her side. “Not here.”

“Of course not. That would be inappropriate, Ser. I’m sweaty from training. Lets have a bath.” 

After a rather long bath and much needed alone time with his princess, Jaime prepared for supper. Brienne was on duty with the Hound, which meant he could eat with his right hand for once. The thought dismayed him. Jaime never felt fully satisfied unless touching Brienne. There was a level of comfort he found in her that he never knew with another.

Walking into the dining hall, Jaime took a seat beside Brynden. Across the table, Balon and Loras were laughing loudly at some ribald jape that would make Tyrion blush. 

Brynden groaned in distaste and poured himself some wine. “Where’s your father, Jaime?”

“I can’t recall… which is the deepest of the Seven Hells?” Jaime tore at his bread and shoved it into his mouth. Of course, Jaime knew who Brynden meant as did Balon and Loras. The men chuckled in amusement, but it was Loras who spoke.

“Come now, your aunt isn’t  _ that  _ bad. If the old man plays his cards right, he might feel like he’s in the Seven Heavens.” 

Jaime nearly choked on the bread he had just bitten into. It was not the first time such an insinuation was made; Brienne had raised the topic as well. 

At Jaime’s side, Brynden chuckled in amusement. “I’m certain Lady Genna is just being  _ helpful _ . I imagine they’re taking dinner and  _ dessert  _ in our Lord Commander’s chambers.”

Jaime groaned at the words. Barristan and his aunt were adults well grown, but something about the japes unnerved Jaime. He certainly did not want to think about his aunt’s intimate affairs, and Barristan was not the type. 

Even with the new vows, Barristan resigned himself to a life without love. Jaime had tried to convince him otherwise, but it was clear that Barristan wanted nothing to do with such emotions or personal connections. 

Further, Jaime knew of his aunt’s reputation. She would thoroughly scandalize Barristan; scare him off from women entirely. Then there was the strangeness of who Genna and Barristan were to Jaime. 

When Joanna died, Genna had tried to mother Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion as best she could given her own family and responsibilities. As to Barristan, Jaime considered him a father figure. While Barristan made it clear to Jaime that his regard was not shared, Jaime couldn’t shake the sentiment.

_ Gods. It would be like my parents having… no. Don’t think on it. Horrible. _

“Disgusting! Stop it. He’s likely tied up in some meeting. He’ll be coming soon.”

“Oh! I’m certain he’ll be coming soon.” Loras laughed as he spoke and clapped approvingly. The men were far too amused for Jaime’s taste. 

_ Genna and Barristan. How ridiculous. The kingdoms’ most chaste knight and the kingdoms’ boldest noblewoman. _

The laughter carried on for some time until Barristan moved into the room. He looked tired and weak. A feeling of guilt tore through Jaime at the knowledge that Genna had the right of it. Training in the yards was not the best approach.

“What has you all carrying on so loudly?” Barristan questioned the men as he sat in the chair to Jaime’s right.

An awkward silence fell over the table as Jaime’s sworn brothers rushed to shove food into their mouths. 

_ That’s right. Idiots. Try telling Barristan your thoughts on the matter. He’ll tell you the truth of it. _

A warm hand patted Jaime on the back as Brynden smiled smugly at Barristan from over Jaime’s shoulders. “Jaime was just telling us how wonderful it is to have all his family  _ together  _ in King’s Landing. Isn't’ that right, Jaime?” 

Jaime glared at Brynden before turning to Barristan and forcing a smile. “Just so wonderful, though I’m quite eager to rid ourselves of the  _ madness  _ Genna has brought. I look forward to her swift return to the Rock.”

Barristan shrugged as though it mattered little. “I don’t think so. She’s staying at least another two moons.”

“What!?” Jaime choked on his wine. His hand flew to his mouth as he struggled to breathe. 

Brynden guffawed and smacked Jaime’s back with his palm. “You alright? Trying to  _ clean out the old pipes _ .”


	68. Catelyn VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Arianne get married and a feast follows.

Catelyn glanced around the hall and smiled widely. Two moons had passed since Jon’s betrothal to Princess Arianne Martell, and now Catelyn sat contentedly beside Ned at the young couple’s wedding feast. 

At their table were Jon, Arianne, and Prince Doran. The newlyweds wished to honor Ned, Catelyn, and Doran by sitting together at the front of the hall. The gesture overwhelmed Catelyn who was still working daily to make up for lost time with Jon. 

The wedding had been grand as dignitaries from across the kingdoms attended. The Sept filled to capacity earlier that day, and now Jon sat with his queen at his side. 

Catelyn marveled at how many love matches were being made under Jon’s rule. Brienne and Jaime had been the first, but now Jon and Arianne joined them. Even more surprising were the soon-to-be announced matches.

Raising to toast, Jon spoke loudly for the hundreds amassed in the great hall. 

“Thank you all for coming to honor me and my wife. It is my hope that others can come together from across kingdoms to form matches out of want, and not merely political need.”

Jon looked pointedly at Olenna with a small smirk on his face. Taking a deep breath, Jon continued. 

“We’re to name some matches this evening, and I hope you will all join me in toasting to the good fortune of our kingdoms’ new betrothals.”

Catelyn appraised the hall and smiled as her eyes landed on the table of Kingsguard. Once more, Jon insisted that they join the festivities. With Brienne as his aunt, Jaime as his gooduncle, and Barristan as his well-regarded Lord Commander, Jon wanted nothing to do with the seven elite knights standing guard at his back. He wished for them to celebrate with him and the kingdoms. 

Jon’s voice drew Catelyn’s attention away from the close knit Kingsguard and back to her table. “First, my aunt, Princess Daenerys Targaryen of Dragonstone, is to wed Ser Addam Marbrand of Ashemark. It pleases me that they have found a love match, though it distresses my gooduncle, Ser Jaime, that his goodsister is now to steal away with his friend and commander of the Westerland’s army.”

The hall erupted into laughter as Jaime grumbled from his seat. There had been a thaw in the relationship between Daenerys and Jaime, but he feigned at distaste which Daenerys enjoyed playing into immensely. In private, they got along quite well. According to Ned, the young Targaryen had taken to hounding both Barristan and Jaime for tales of her mother and brother. Both men enjoyed sharing their memories with Daenerys, and Catelyn was pleased to see Daenerys settle into life in the Seven Kingdoms.

As the laughter died down, Jon announced several more betrothals between prominent Houses before coming to the last. With a slight hesitation, Jon took a deep breath before continuing. Catelyn knew of the last betrothal to be announced, and it had been a rather contentious match. 

Myrcella and Trystane Martell were a love match. The young couple were eager to wed, but Prince Doran had been reluctant. He preferred that Trystane wed Lord Yronwood’s daughter, Gwyneth. The girl was of age and had an eye for the Martell boys. She had hoped to wed Quentyn, but Trystane’s older brother was now betrothed to another. 

Lord Yronwood and Prince Doran preferred the match between their children, but Trystane rebelled. He threatened to run away with Myrcella as Prince Duncan Targaryen abandoned his kin many years ago to marry Jenny. Prince Doran relented, but he had yet to tell Lord Yronwood who sat impatiently among Dorne’s dignitaries. 

“And lastly, I would announce another young match. Lady Myrcella Baratheon of Storm’s End is to wed Prince Trystane Martell of Sunspear.”

At the announcement, Jaime sank at his position on the bench, forcing Catelyn to bite back a laugh. Jaime was happy for Myrcella, but dismayed that she was already to be wed off. Catelyn had sought him out to discuss it two days prior.

_ Two days ago _

“When Robert betrothed Sansa to your  _ nephew _ , I wanted to cry. She had not even flowered yet, and already she was to leave me. Of course, I hadn’t even known Joffrey or the truth of it all, but as a mother, I despaired. It’s the way of it though. We lose our children before they’re yet grown. I promise you, Jaime, this is for the best. She’ll marry into a prominent House and be well cared for. You know the challenge she will otherwise face in making a match.”

Jaime had sighed and sulked in his chair, but he nodded in understanding. “She’s just so… young. Two-and-ten! I’ve only had two years to know her properly.”

Catelyn placed a warm hand on Jaime’s arm. “That isn’t her fault nor is it yours. It had to be so. When the time comes that you leave the Kingsguard for Tarth, you’ll be able to sail easily enough to visit her.”

Humming in consideration, Jaime glanced away and stared at the gardens surrounding them. “I suppose you’ve the right of it.”

“Of course I do! I’m a Tully.” Catelyn’s tone was light and teasing as she appraised the man who was almost made her goodbrother many years ago. He was still obnoxiously handsome, though it was his heart that Catelyn came to appreciate most. He loved Brienne fiercely and treated her as though she was the queen. 

At eight moons pregnant, Brienne looked exhausted earlier that day when Catelyn walked the same gardens with the female knight. As her time grew close, Brienne panicked. She didn’t have a mother to turn to, nor had her childhood septa been helpful where it concerned the process of birthing a babe. 

Fortunately, Brienne had support. Genna was just as protective of Brienne as Jaime was. The woman had arrived two moons ago at word of Jaime’s near death and never left. 

That morning, Catelyn shared news with Brienne that lifted her spirits. “You won’t be alone when the time comes. Genna seems unwilling to return to the Rock for reasons I don’t understand, but I believe you’re among them. And… you’ll have me. I’ve decided to stay in the south. Robb and Talisa are ruling Winterfell well without me. My grandbabe is already one and nearing two! I’ve brought Rickon with me to serve as a page, though in truth, I’m also hoping to spend time with my other children before they leave me too. Cherish your babe while he or she is young, Brienne. They grow up fast.”

  
  


Now as Catelyn sat at the feast, her eyes moved to the table behind the Kingsguard where Myrcella sat with the rest of House Lannister and House Stark.

_ Gods. My House with House Lannister. It truly has come to this.  _

Myrcella beamed at the announcement; her eyes darting across the hall to Dorne’s table where Prince Tyrstane mouthed words of love. Then, things took an unexpected turn. Lord Yronwood stood from his chair; a question in his voice.

“Apologies your Grace, but I believed that my daughter was to be betrothed to Prince Tyrstane?”

Jon took a deep breath and glanced at Arianne. The new queen’s eyes narrowed at Lord Yronwood, but she held her tongue. Forcing a smile, Jon shook his head.

“I’m sorry that this comes as a surprise to you, but both Prince Tyrstane and Lady Myrcella want this match.”

The Dornish lord snorted and narrowed his eyes at Myrcella. “Respectfully, I question the validity of such a match. Dorne’s prince deserves a  _ true  _ noblewoman.”

Catelyn’s eyes went wide. The implication was clear, and Lord Yronwood was giving nod to Myrcella’s true lineage. 

At the Kingsguard table, Barristan gripped Jaime’s shoulder and forced him to remain seated. Catelyn grimaced and prayed to the Seven the tension could be quelled amicably enough. Whispers broke out in the great hall, but Jon’s tone cut through the chatter.

“Speak plainly, Lord Yronwood. What grievance do you have with the match.”

It was a challenge and Catelyn saw it in Jon’s eyes. Jaime would not need to defend Myrcella nor would Trystane who also looked eager to drag his blade across Lord Yronwood’s throat.

With a small laugh, Lord Yronwood nodded at Myrcella. “I mean no disrespect towards Lady Myrcella. She is a fine young woman, but rumors of her lineage  _ appear  _ true. She does not look like a Baratheon to me.”

Jon’s fists clenched at his side and his face reddened slightly. Catelyn did not see Jon angry often, but what she saw on his face now did not bode well for Lord Yronwood. 

“Tell me Lord Yronwood, what does a Baratheon look like? While you’re at it, what do Targaryens look like? Do I look like my aunts? Do my aunts look like each other? I imagine Ser Brienne  _ Lannister  _ is as curious as I. Does she look Targaryen or Tarth? Do I look Targaryen or Stark?”

The emphasis on Brienne’s married name was clear. Beyond questioning the king’s decree, Lord Yronwood was offending two of the greatest knights in the kingdoms, Brienne and Jaime. He would be well-served to shut his mouth or only open it to apologize. 

Further, Jon made a point for which there was no contention. Neither Jon nor Brienne looked the part of stereotypical Targaryens. It seemed laughable that someone could be assumed one House or another based on appearance alone. 

Before Lord Yronwood could reply, Jon spoke again. His tone brokered no argument as he glared at the man. “King Robert claimed all three of his children; Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. Neither gods nor men have the right to question his claim and the name he bestowed upon them. That to me makes the matter rather simple. Prince Trystane of House Martell is to wed Lady Myrcella of House Baratheon. Two Great Houses joining is a more than worthy match with a more than  _ true  _ noblewoman to be Prince Trystane’s bride.”

Catelyn’s chest swelled with pride and her eyes misted. The hall was silent as all eyes fell on Lord Yronwood. Scowls and disgruntled stares were cast at the Dornish lord. Glancing left, Catelyn could see the visible relief on Jaime’s face as he sat between Barristan and Brienne; the latter squeezing his hand tightly. 

Myrcella sat tall and proud beside her kin as she stared across the room at Lord Yronwood. Fortunately for the Dornish lord, he was no fool.

Bowing towards Jon and then Myrcella, he spoke appeasingly. “My sincerest apologies my lady. I spoke out of turn on rumors rather than fact. I wish you and Prince Trystane good fortune in the years to come. A fine match you make!”

Raising his cup, Lord Yronwood nodded his head before sinking into his chair. The tension that had settled over the room lifted, and Catelyn felt as though she could breathe again. With the betrothal announcements concluded, Jon signaled for the musicians to resume playing. 

The conversation grew loud once more as tables resumed their conversations. Having spent much of the feast at her table, Catelyn rose to mingle with other groups. Before doing so, Catelyn turned to Jon and. Reaching out to squeeze his hand, Catelyn spoke for his ears only.

“You’re an incredible king, Jon. What you did was a kindness that most sovereigns before you never afforded. I’m very proud, and I think some people over my shoulder are very grateful.”

Catelyn had seen the expressions of appreciation from House Lannister at Jon’s words. Jaime in particular looked appreciative  _ and  _ relieved. 

Turning on heel, Catelyn walked towards the Kingsguard table. They appeared to be having the most fun of the other groups crammed into the great hall. As Catelyn approached, the Kingsguard were laughing uproariously at something that Balon was saying. Catelyn’s eyes went wide at the sight of the Hound smiling and shaking his head in response. 

Brienne’s laugh carried through the hall loudest of all. It was the most liberated and carefree that Catelyn had ever seen the young woman. Catelyn didn’t need to hear the words to know the tale was at Jaime’s and Barristan’s expense. The two men began to protest loudly, but their wide smiles reflected no ill will at Balon’s tale. 

“Am I allowed to sit with you all for a bit, or do I need to take vows first?”

Loras slid down the bench to make room for Catelyn. “You only need offer an embarrassing tale of yourself, or someone at the table. I personally would prefer another good poke at Ser Dad and Ser Son over there.”

Brynden handed Catelyn a cup of wine and smirked. “Come on, Cat. I can think of many a tale.”

“Or I can share one of  _ you _ .” Jaime’s words caught Catelyn by surprise. She tilted her head in question and spoke challengingly. 

“Oh really? This fabrication I must hear.”

A satisfied smirk lined Jaime’s face as he straightened and grabbed his cup of wine. “Riverrun around 278 AC.”

Catelyn’s brows furrowed and her mind began to wonder at what tale Jaime was about to tell. Leaning forward onto his elbows, Jaime spoke teasingly. “What is your favorite fish soup, Lady Catelyn.”

Catelyn’s eyes went wide and her uncle barked a laugh at her side. “No! Jaime Lannister you will shut your mouth right now!”

Biting back a laugh, Catelyn shook her head and tried to force a warning look in her eyes, but it only encouraged Jaime even more. 

“I had to endure a fortnight at Riverrun seated next to your awful sister, but then…” Catelyn reached across the table and covered Jaime’s mouth with her hand. 

“Stop it now, or I’ll have Brienne beat you to a pulp.” The table grew rowdy with excitement at the tale to be told. There was no stopping it now, and Catelyn knew it. Standing from her seat, Catelyn raised a challenging brow. 

“Tell your little story, Ser Jaime, but just know this… Brienne is an honorary Stark and would feel compelled to fight for my honor.” 

With a teasing wink at Brienne, Catelyn placed warm hands to her uncle’s shoulders before moving towards the table with her children and House Lannister. She wouldn’t stop Jaime from having his fun, but she certainly did not need to relive the tale. 

The table jeered her departure, but leaned in eagerly to hear what Jaime had to say. Moving to the next table, Catelyn took a seat between her daughters. Her back was to Brienne, Jaime, and Barristan, but even from the next table, she could hear pieces of the tale carrying over their shoulders. 

_ My traitorous uncle lets that fool tell such embarrassing tales. Those Kingsguard deserve one another. _

Catelyn smiled at the thought. In truth, she was pleased at how well-bonded they all were. It was endearing and would ensure that Jon had a strong group of knights to guard his back. 

Unsurprisingly, Tyrion and Sansa were deep in conversation. The younger Lannister scoffed and feigned wound at whatever Sansa had said.

“I’ve been in my best behavior for moons! I’ve become as dull as your father and as chaste as Ser Barristan. It’s awful and I hope you’re happy.”

Sansa grinned widely and raised a challenging brow. “The Dornish red…”

“Was a gift from our new queen!” Tyrion clutched his chest in mock horror.

Sansa smirked and shook her head. “My work is yet done, though you’ve improved. For your good behavior, I’ll afford you the first move in cyvasse when next we play.”

At Catelyn’s back, loud laughter filled her ears. Her traitorous uncle yelled loudly in between fits of laughter.

“I saw it for myself! Ser Son doesn’t lie!”

Catelyn turned around and gave a playful swat to Jaime’s head. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“I hope you enjoyed the soup this evening.” As soon as the words left Jaime’s mouth, he covered his head defensively much to Catelyn’s amusement.

_ Good. Be afraid, Lannister. _

Throughout the evening, Catelyn noticed some exchanged looks and mouthed words between Genna and Barristan. After their last observed goodbye following Jaime’s and Brienne’s wedding, Catelyn allowed her curiosity to get the better of her.

When Arya moved away to sit with Selwyn, Gendry, and the Stormlanders, Catelyn slid down to sit opposite Genna.

“Lady Genna, you look well. Where is Lord Emmon this evening?”

Genna snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “Bothering everyone in earshot at the Twins. My eldest living son, Lyonel, came to represent the Twins. He and his wife left earlier. I love the boy, but he’s as dull as his father. Luckily, Emmon is no longer my issue to endure.”

Word of Genna’s annulment to the Lord of the Crossing had reached Winterfell. Catelyn huffed a laugh; her eyes following Genna’s gaze once more to Barristan. The older knight had an arm lazily draped over Jaime’s shoulders, but he was glancing back at Genna with furrowed brows.

A wordless exchange passed between them, and Catelyn almost felt as though she was intruding on a private moment. Leaning in, Catelyn spoke inquisitively.

“So, what sees you in King’s Landing these past moons?”

Genna scoffed and pointed at the Kingsguard table. “Those two fools don’t know how to care for themselves. Both nearly died without proper supervision.”

“Ah, so you’re here to keep the Kingsguard safe?”

Genna’s brows raised in reply. “Well, I only intended to ensure their recovery. I’ve things to do at the Rock. Kevan is useless, though he fancies himself Tywin come again.” After a short pause, Genna’s face softened some. “Though… Brienne’s time is close. I plan to wait to ensure she has support. The poor girl doesn’t have a mother, and that Septa of hers seems to have done more harm than good.”

_ A bit of an understatement.  _

“I’ll be here for her if you need to return west. With Robb leading the North and a young heir running about, they hardly have need of me. Lady Olenna seems quite fond of Brienne as well. We’ll ensure she has ample support for delivery.”

Genna’s brows rose at the information. With a conciliatory nod, the older woman hummed in consideration. “I suppose I  _ could  _ return home then.”

Catelyn did not miss the less than subtle glance towards the Kingsguard table. Not a moment later, Genna’s brows furrowed and her nose scrunched in distaste. 

“By the Seven, what is  _ that _ ?”

Catelyn turned around and noticed a handful of Wildlings approach the Kingsguard table. A small laugh pushed past Catelyn’s lips as she turned back to Genna and noted the scowl on the woman’s face. 

“Jon invited Mance and his senior most officers as a show of goodwill.”

Genna groaned in distaste. “Is that a  _ woman _ ?”

“Yes, just as  _ we  _ have women among our best.” Catelyn’s sharp reminder startled Genna, but in truth, the Stark matriarch saw Genna’s response for what it was. Jealousy. 

One of Mance’s lead officers, a woman named Yvonn, had squeezed in at Barristan’s side. She was slightly older than many of her peers, but still of childbearing age. The woman was brave and determined, though not as skilled as Brienne or Yara. Catelyn had seen her training at Winterfell on several occasions and was impressed. 

In truth, Catelyn had met many of Mance’s lead officers during the Free Folk’s time at the Dreadfort and their aid at Winterfell. True to their word, they helped repair the Keep and share suggestions for tending the fields in a harsher climate. 

Yvonn was a sweet woman. She had two children fully grown, but she had also lost three north of the Wall. Life had not been easy for her and many others. It seemed to Catelyn that all they sought now was comradery. Of course, Genna didn’t seem to see it that way.

“Tell me Lady Genna, what do you think of Ser Barristan? He could wed now or simply take a lover. Yvonn has lost her husband and three children, though she has two sons fully grown. She could use some love.”

Genna’s eyes went wide and she shifted on the bench. “He doesn’t need all that. He said as much himself.”

“Oh? Has he?” Catelyn feigned surprise, but kept her gaze on Genna.

“We write to one another regularly. I sent him half a dozen eligible women! All perfectly suitable… well… perhaps not the last one, but he seemed quite tense!”

That information did surprise Catelyn.  _ Perhaps I misread her and they have merely forged a strong friendship.  _

The feast had long passed supper and most guests had now taken to the dance floor. Movement at Catelyn’s back caught her attention. Brienne was being urged to the floor by Jaime; the pair laughing and grabbing at one another as though two infatuated youths rather than a couple wed near two years.

Brynden and Barristan continued to speak with Mance’s officers. There were three in total; two men and Yvonn. The Free Folk were good people, though odd. Their tales from north of the Wall were as strange as the described threat that Westeros faced. 

Brynden was always one to entertain others and regale them with amusing tales. Whatever story he was sharing had the Wildlings laughing loudly. Yvonn’s hand flew to Barristan’s arm as she barked a laugh that could wake the dead without the Night King’s effort.

At the scene, Genna stood quickly from her seat and moved around towards the Kingsguard’s table. Without a word, she began tugging Barristan by the arm and nudging him towards the dancefloor. The aged knight appeared as confused as his tablemates, but Genna was unrelenting. Barristan soon acquiesced and the pair walked towards the area Brienne and Jaime were dancing. 

The scene reminded Catelyn of the wedding feast from near two years ago. Somehow, the dynamic between Genna and Barristan felt different. They danced closer, smiled softer, and laughed louder. 

_ Perhaps my initial assessment wasn’t wrong. _


	69. Jaime XXVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne enjoy some time together following Jon's wedding feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead

Jaime kicked the door shut behind him; his body already halfway bare as his lips found Brienne’s once more. Whether on account of the wine in his belly or the atmosphere at the feast, Jaime was drunk on all things Brienne. 

Their frantic hands pushed away any remaining clothing between them, and each toed off their boots as they fell backwards onto the bed. Jaime’s cock ached as his mouth dove for Brienne’s milk-swollen breasts. His right hand roamed down her side to the swell of her belly. Their babe was safe within, and would soon be in their arms. For now, Jaime wanted Brienne in his arms, and his cock between her folds.

Brienne’s back arched into Jaime’s mouth as his lips sucked on her nipple. When his tongue flicked across the sensitive flesh, Brienne moaned loudly; the sound nearly making Jaime spill on the sheets.

Positioning himself between Brienne’s legs, Jaime thrust into her and paused at the pleasure their unity brought. Being one with Brienne was a sensation that Jaime couldn’t be without for long. He loved every part of her; touchable and untouchable. Her body, her heart, her mind, and her strength. 

Both gasped as Jaime sheathed himself fully. With Brienne’s pregnant swell, Jaime couldn’t stretch out over the length of her, but the different angle gave him better access to see more of her. 

The fire danced over Brienne’s pale skin and cast shadows across his favorite freckles adorning her body. He had spent countless hours before she awoke tracing the constellations on her shoulders and cheeks. 

As he moved in and out at a frenzied pace, Jaime stared deeply into Brienne’s eyes. Her legs wrapped firm around Jaime’s hips and pulled him forward. When he obliged and lowered himself to her lips, Brienne’s hands caressed his face. 

Despite her strength in the yards, Brienne was gentle in bed. She craved touch as much as Jaime; both having known little affection in life. Jaime didn’t realize how much he lacked until Brienne offered.

When Jaime could sense Brienne nearing release, he reached down to rub her sensitive nub. The combined pressure of his cock pushing deep and his fingers rubbing purposefully sent Brienne over the edge. When her eyes squeezed tightly and her inner walls clenched firm around Jaime’s cock, he pushed hard into her and found his own release. 

Both lay panting and entangled. Their fingers and lips touching one another’s flushed skin. Jaime pulled Briene close; their foreheads pressed together as he dragged his fingers up and down Brienne’s spine. 

“About the boy name…”

“Gods! Not again.” Brienne groaned in exhaustion, but Jaime saw the hint of a smile at her lips.

“All I’m saying is that it’s a very strong name.”

Brienne chuckled and rolled to her back. From the heat of their passion, Brienne’s hair had begun to curl slightly at the edges. Her disheveled appearance always drove Jaime made with lust.

“Jaime, that is not a strong name.  _ They  _ are strong  _ names _ . We cannot name a child Duncan Arthur Barristan Lannister. You must pick one, and also, I should like to have some consideration in this.”

Jaime pushed himself onto his elbows and stared down at her. “I gave you consideration in the girl’s name.” 

“You thought it fitting too! I liked Arianne. You liked Joanna. We both liked Rhaella.”

With a conciliatory nod, Jaime continued. “Yes, well then can’t you simply like all names that I suggested and we roll them into one?”

Brienne scoffed and swatted his chest. The crinkle near her eyes told Jaime that she found him more ridiculous than annoying. “I like Galladon and Selwyn too. You’ve quite forgotten my suggestions.”

“Galladon was a fabled knight. That could do, but Selwyn…. Selwyn is so… Tarth.”

Brienne pushed upright onto her own elbows; their noses an inch from one another. “So Tarth!? You married a Tarth!”

“Yes, but now look how much you’ve improved!” 

A pillow flew at Jaime’s head before he could block it. The pummeling he took was well-deserved, but Jaime couldn’t help but laugh at her indignant rage. When he eventually gripped the pillow well enough to pry it from her fingers, Jaime dove at Brienne, pinning her to the bed. 

“Gods I love when you get violent.” His voice was teasing, but the words were partially true. It was merely that Jaime preferred to watch the rage directed at others. This of course was a feigned rage. 

Brienne bit back a smile and huffed in contrived annoyance. “I’m tired. Leave me be.”

Jaime’s cock had other ideas. He knew that if he could kiss away the jape, she would allow him to make another case for a son named ‘Duncan Arthur Barristan Lannister’. Hopefully, he would get more than one chance to make his case that evening. 

As the fire burned low, the heat in the room increased. Jaime brought Brienne to release twice more that night and matched her each time. When they eventually found sleep in one another’s arms, it was a peaceful rest. As in most dreams, Jaime chased Brienne through fields at the Rock. The swell at her belly was heavy with child, and her eyes danced with mirth. 

A hand shook Jaime from his dreams. When he opened his eyes, the room was dark with the only light coming from the embers in the fireplace. Brienne’s body was warm at his side, but not pressed as close as he preferred. 

Jaime reached out, but was surprised to find her sitting upright. 

“Jaime! Wake up!”

“Go back to sleep. The Hound and Balon have guard duty this morning.”

Given the Kingsguard’s invitation to the feast, Ned ensured six Gold Cloaks were left on guard overnight so that the sworn brothers could rest following the merriment. It was the third time since Jon’s reign that they were afforded a night off. That made it three more times than Jaime had been afforded under Robert or Aerys.

“Jaime. Something is wrong. I… I think my waters broke. That or I peed myself. It really hurts.”

Jaime bolted upright. Appraising the room, he estimated they had only been asleep for a few hours. The moonlight pouring in suggested it would be hours still until sunrise. 

“I’ll get the maester. Just wait here.” Jaime’s roll from the bed was more of a fall. He was still quite sleepy and disoriented from having only just awoken. Righting himself, Jaime moved towards the door, but Brienne cried out. 

“Clothing, Jaime!” 

_ Seven hells. Whose is whose? I can’t see.  _

Jaime grabbed the first pair of breeches and tunic he could feel on the floor. It took two tries to find matching boots before he moved from the room and stumbled in a sleepy haze towards Maester Harmon’s chambers. 

At the hour, it was likely the man was no more prepared than Jaime for a walk about the Keep. As Jaime walked, his mind worked. 

_ She’s only eight moons. This can’t be right. Is the babe alright? Did we overdo it last night? Oh gods! Did my cock poke the babe in the head! Is it a head injury!? _

Jaime quickened his pace and soon arrived at the maester’s chambers. He knocked loudly and glanced up and down the hallway. Most had been well in their cups that evening for the king’s wedding. It was likely that the whole of the castle would not see the light of day until lunch.

A bleary Maester Harmon answered the door and appraised Jaime. “Ser Jaime? Is something wrong? Is it the king?”

“It’s Brienne. She thinks her waters broke, but we were asleep and it’s dark, and… oh gods… I think I broke the babe. Can sex do that?” 

The maester rubbed at his eyes and opened the door further. “Wait, slow down. You were asleep  _ and  _ having sex?”

“What? No. Of course not. Wait… is that?... Never mind.” Jaime glanced around the hall before looking back at the maester. “Can you come see her?”

“Of course, of course. Just give me a moment to dress properly.” The maester retreated into his room, leaving Jaime alone to his thoughts. Jaime paced outside the area for some time before Maester Harmon returned with a bag under his arm. 

“Just in case, I thought it best to bring my things. I believe she is only eight moons, but it is difficult to say with accuracy since she was taking moon tea regularly. Her courses sounded a bit unpredictable. Is she in pain?”

“She said something hurt, but I didn’t ask questions. She woke me up, and I left straight away.” 

The maester hummed and exhaled loudly at Jaime’s side. “Was she exerting herself at the feast? Dancing too much perhaps?”

“Yes, we were dancing quite a bit near the end, but she seemed fine afterwards.”

_ Well, she certainly felt good afterwards. I doubt he needs to know all that. _

Once more, the maester considered the words as they walked. “And you had relations last night?”

_ Well that is a bit forward.  _

“Three times.”

At Jaime’s reply, the maester chuckled. “Well I commend you on the stamina, but it was more an understanding of her general activities that I needed. Dancing and coupling can cause a good deal of strain on the woman at this point in pregnancy. I’m certain she is having some mild contracts or perhaps the pressure of the babe caused her to leak some urine. It’s not unusual or anything to be concerned about.”

Before making their way towards the White Sword Tower, Maester Harmon guided them towards the staff’s quarters. He roused a young attendant and asked her to deliver hot water and additional linens to the White Sword Tower. 

_ Gods this is taking forever. Brienne is likely to have fallen asleep by now. _

As the men entered the White Sword Tower, Jaime heard a commotion two levels up. His eyes went wide and he began ascending the steps quickly. When he reached the level of his chambers, Jaime was surprised to see the door open. 

Stepping into the room, Jaime’s jaw dropped at the scene playing out before him. The Hound was tending the fire while Loras and Brynden each held Brienne by the arms to support her. Barristan and Balon were rapidly removing bloodied sheets on the bed, as Brienne bent at the waist in agony.

_ Seven hells! I was not even gone for half an hour! _

Maester Harmon shoved past Jaime into the room. “Ser Brienne, how long has the pain been going on?”

Panic coursed through Jaime as he rushed to Brienne’s side, taking the place of Brynden. He had never seen her in such agony before and an overwhelming fear gripped him.

“Not long before I awoke. Something feels wrong.”

The maester put down his bag and began removing various instruments which Jaime recognized from when Cersei birthed their children. 

Inspecting the soiled sheets, the maester nodded more to himself than anyone else. “It’s certainly labor and not the type of bleeding that concerns me. I’m more surprised it has come on so sudden and strong. Lets get you to lay down and we’ll see where things are at.”

Loras and Jaime guided Brienne to the bed. In the time Jaime was gone, she had managed to put on a tunic and breeches, but neither were well-laced. With a nod to the sworn brothers, Maester Harmon asked them to step outside. 

Only Jaime remained in the room with Brienne and Maester Harmon. Both men helped Brienne with her breeches as she writhed in pain. Before examining her, Maester Harmon spoke steadily and gripped Brienne’s arm.

“Did you have any pain yesterday?”

Brienne spoke through gritted teeth as she tried to breathe through the agony. “A lot of cramping, but nothing like this.”

With a nod, the maester checked Brienne; his eyes going wide. “Ser, you’re certain that you were not having more intense pains before this?”

Another wave of pain gripped Brienne. She writhed on the bed and struggled to breathe through the pain. Shaking her head in refute, Brienne’s eyes shone bright with unshed tears. “No. I don’t think so.”

Jaime looked between Brienne and the maester. With a worried expression, Jaime questioned Harmon. “What does that mean? Is something wrong?”

“Not necessarily. It is highly unusual for a first time mother to progress so quickly. I believe that your babe will be here before the sun is up. I don’t know if we’ll have time to bring up a midwife from the city.”

Panic coursed through Jaime and he gripped Brienne’s hand. “I’ll help. I’m not leaving her.” 

Jaime knew that Brienne feared delivering their babe. Both of their mothers had died in childbirth, and while Brienne was not Arianne’s daughter, she still feared the same outcome. A small whimper pushed past Brienne’s lips. Jaime had never felt so helpless as he stared into Brienne’s eyes. He tried to offer reassurance for the speed at which things were progressing, but he had no idea what was going on.

“It will be alright. Your body is just very… efficient.” 

_ Is that a thing? Gods let that be a thing. _

Glancing at the maester, Jaime saw the man’s brow raise at the words. Maester Harmon was a calming presence however, and he spoke assuredly to the knights before him. 

“As I said, it isn’t common, but it isn’t impossible. It’s just as likely that Ser Brienne missed the signs of early labor before her waters broke. Yesterday was quite chaotic for all of us, and the early pains can be more bearable for some than others.”

“I broke my nose twice!” Brienne shouted as though trying to afford context for her pain threshold. For some reason, the words and her eager tone had Jaime struggling to swallow a laugh.

The maester spoke evenly, but Jaime noted the smirk at his lips as he turned away to reach for more linens. “That’s nice for you, Ser. I don’t imagine you’ll find many women who would compare delivering a babe to a broken nose, however.” 

For three hours, Brienne writhed in pain. Her skin was flushed and coated in sweat as she screamed through waves of intense pain. Brienne’s jaw clenched and her hands reached desperately for Jaime, begging him to help.

The act of watching, but being unable to help Brienne broke Jaime’s heart. Through it all, the maester offered reassuring words, and he handed Jaime damp cloths to place on Brienne’s head.

An attendant dropped off more linens and heated water to the White Sword Tower. When Loras and Balon came in with the linens in their arms and a basin of hot water in hand, Brienne groaned at the intrusion. 

“Don’t worry… we hardly care for what’s between your legs. We were the safest to send in.” Balon chuckled as they placed down the items and left. As the door shut, Jaime could see all of his sworn brothers standing tall outside the door as though on guard. The sight of them was both heartwarming and ridiculous. 

Not long before sunrise, Brienne birthed a healthy girl after pushing for near an hour. The maester was pleased with the babe’s coloring and size. “We likely had trouble calculating the dates on account of the moon tea. She looks healthy and full grown. Congratulations.”

The maester worked to deliver the afterbirth and tidy up the linens below Brienne. He offered care instruction and packed Brienne’s smallclothes to catch the bleeding that she would endure for some weeks. 

As Brienne held their little girl close to her chest, Jaime felt tears streaming down his own cheeks. 

_ We have a girl. I have a babe to claim.  _

Jaime held his little family in his arms and kissed the top of Brienne’s head. “Thank you. She’s perfect. You’re both perfect. Our Rhaella.”

While Jaime only wanted their babe healthy, a part of him had hoped for a girl. He wanted to raise a little female knight like Brienne. A little girl he could proudly show off to the kingdoms and see knighted in a world where no one would dare question her ability. Brienne had paved the way for their daughter to do whatever she pleased. 

As the maester left the room, the rest of their sworn brothers eagerly pushed inside. Judging by their reactions, one could be fooled into thinking that Brienne had birthed a god to sit among the Seven. The brothers fussed over the babe and fought over who could hold her next. Jaime was pulled into more hugs than he received in all of his years at the Rock. 

Jaime wiped the tears from his eyes as his little girl was passed around like newly forged Valyrian steel. Taking a seat beside Brienne, Jaime pulled her close and kissed her temple. Their daughter now had four ser uncles… and a ser grandfather. 

When at last the babe came to Barristan, he cradled Rhaella and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you have a name for her?”

Barristan’s eyes darted to Jaime and Brienne. At his question, the room went silent and Jaime could feel his sworn brothers looking at them with great interest. With a tired voice, Brienne smiled and met Barristan’s eyes. 

“Rhaella.”

Jaime wasn’t certain what Barristan expected, but it wasn’t the name Rhaella. A wide smile and teary eyes graced his face before he looked back at the babe in his arms. “Perfect.”


	70. Barristan III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barristan has a day filled with unpleasant information.

The late morning sun beat down on Barristan’s back as he sparred Jaime in the yards. The weather had been peculiar of late. Most days, a slight chill settled over King’s Landing. It was unusual for the temperature to drop to such an extent in the south, but as House Stark often said, “winter is coming”. 

Today had not been one of those days. An unusually hot day drew all the Kingsguard to the yards with the exception of Brienne who had only just given birth a week prior. Joining the Kingsguard in the training yards were Addam, Jon, Ned, Mance, and the Free Folk officers. 

The Wildling leader had opted to stay in the city for a fortnight to discuss preparations for the war with the dead, and the Kingsguard leveraged the time with the Free Folk to learn a different fighting style. Barristan in particular was curious to understand how the northerners adjusted their weapons and stances to accommodate fighting in wintery conditions. 

Ser Addam had lingered at the Red Keep to discuss matters of the West with Tyrion. With his betrothal to Daenerys announced, Addam had recommended elevating Ser Daven Lannister to commander of the Westerlands army; a decision that Jaime supported.

As sweat dripped down Barristan’s brow, he appraised Jaime's tired eyes. The new father looked exhausted, but Barristan could tell that Jaime was enjoying a break from the Keep. 

Jaime insisted on helping Brienne with Rhaella throughout the day and night. Of late, Jaime resembled the exhausted newlywed from almost two years prior who struggled to adapt to a change in nighttime habits. This time, his nightly activities were proving less pleasurable. 

Both men paused to discard their sweat-soaked tunics and drink some water. Barristan glanced up at the sky and marveled at how warm it was after a string of unnaturally cold days. Voices approached from the direction of the Keep and caught Barristan’s attention. It would seem that with the warmer weather, Brienne and Genna opted to take the babe for a walk outside. 

It was the first time that Brienne left the Keep since birthing Rhaella. Her eyes squinted and she held a hand at her brows to block the sun. At her side, Genna spoke pointedly at Brienne while holding Rhaella to her chest. The older woman planned to depart in a week after Brienne and Jaime felt more settled. In the meantime, she was helping them find a septa who Brienne could trust.

On account of her poor experience with Septa Roelle, Brienne was hesitant about finding aid, but she knew it was necessary. The sworn brothers had offered to watch the babe when Jaime and Briennne could not on account, but the new parents felt it too much to accept. Further, they knew that Rhaella would eventually require an education beyond how to wield a sword and put on armor. 

At the sight of his aunt, Jaime grumbled. The reaction earned a small laugh from Barristan who stood quietly at the younger knight’s side. Jaime loved his aunt dearly, but she could be overbearing. In the days that passed, Genna pestered Jaime and Brienne with advice on the babe.

_“Careful, Jaime! Support her head better.’_

_‘Don’t eat while holding her! You’ll get crumbs in her face.’_

_‘It’s easier to change the nappy this way.’_

_‘If you pick her up every time she cries, she’ll always want to be held.’_

On and on the advice had went. Barristan tried to bite back a laugh every time he heard Genna’s voice drifting from the younger couple’s room. The Lord Commander had taken to hiding Jaime and Rhaella in his room whenever Brienne took rest. 

Then there was Barristan's own peculiar relationship with Genna. In the past when Genna visited King’s Landing, she trailed after her nephews and often took meals with Olenna. The two women enjoyed one another’s company and the idle gossip of court. 

Over the past two moons, Barristan found Genna visiting his study regularly when she was not otherwise occupied with her kin and Olenna.

_‘Well I usually write you around this hour! I might as well sit here and tell you my thoughts.’_

In truth, Barristan didn’t mind it. A part of Barristan wished that Genna wouldn’t depart for the Rock, while another part of Barristan was ready to pack her bags. Through all the pestering, Barristan couldn’t help but smile when Genna entered the room or wandered the grounds with him. 

Something dangerous was starting to tug at his heart and the feeling frightened Barristan. Barristan knew that Genna had no interest in him beyond friendship, but he began to long for something more. The feeling was akin to his earliest days around Ashara when she became a lady-in-waiting for Princess Elia.

“Seven hells. Lets get back to sparring before she shares more unsolicited advice.” Jaime grumbled at Barristan’s side and set down his waterskin. 

Following close at Jaime’s heels, Barristan unsheathed Blackfyre once more. His arm was getting stronger each day, but at times he still needed two hands on the hilt for strikes and parries. Maester Harmon was pleased with Barristan’s progress, but the maester’s words rang true. With some of the muscle tissue missing, Barristan was not as strong, though his skill remained. Barristan was still well-matched with Jaime in the yards; the two still considered the most skilled living swordsmen in the kingdoms.

They resumed training, though Barristan could tell that Jaime was holding back. Jaime could always sense when Barristan was tiring physically, and he took a slight edge off his swings. Both men moved around one another fluidly; their muscles rippling and their skin coated in a light sweat. 

With the tunic removed, Barristan felt his movements unrestricted without the hindrance of wet cloth clinging to his body. Where Jaime was stronger, Barristan was faster. He moved around Jaime easily enough and smacked the younger knight’s leg with the flat of Blackfyre. Glancing up to enjoy his victory, Barristan noted Jaime’s blade extended and aimed at his neck.

_Seven hells. How did I miss that? Is he getting faster, or am I getting slower?_

A smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips and his eyes danced with mirth. “Pity, my victory lap would have been slowed by a leg wound.”

“Leg wound!? This is Valyrian steel, boy! You’d kill me on the spot, but you’d have one leg to take your victory lap.”

The pair began to bicker over the extent of Jaime’s would-be injury, but Barristan soon felt a presence at the edge of the training yards. The three officers from Mance’s group stood watching with interest.

It was hardly the first time that Jaime and Barristan drew a crowd during sparring. When Daenerys’ armies had arrived, the Unsullied and Dothraki liked to try their hand at besting the pair in the yards. Barristan was impressed with their skill; each group bringing unique fighting styles and weapons. Still, no one had been able to best Jaime or Barristan. 

Mance’s three senior officers also enjoyed challenging the renowned Kingsguard to spars. The southern style was different from their own, and they wished to learn from the pair. As Jaime and Barristan stopped squabbling over the last match, the three officers stepped forward. Yvonn was the most curious of the three. Her preferred weapon was the bow and arrow, but she also fought well with an axe. 

A curious hand reached out for Barristan’s arm and tapped the scar at his forearm. “Is this sword not too heavy for one hand?”

Many of the wildlings used two hands in combat. They were fierce fighters and preferred smaller swords, axes, and war hammers. Longswords struck them as too cumbersome.

“Well the wound certainly did not help, but no; it isn’t too heavy. You get used to the weight. It’s not so much to hinder your speed.”

Yvonn grabbed his empty hand and appraised the callouses. With a hum of understanding, she smiled at Barristan and Jaime while showing her own palm. “The more calloused the better against the dead. They never stop. There is no rest in death.”

The words were chilling and the men at Yvonn’s back nodded gravely. Before Jaime or Barristan could reply, Genna’s voice called out. 

“Are you done now!? There are things to do today boys!”

Sheathing his sword, Barristan turned back towards the rock wall where Genna and Brienne sat watching. The former had a deep scowl on her face as she stared at the Free Folk. The latter was cooing at Rhaella. At Barristan’s side, Jaime grumbled but moved towards the women. 

Brienne smiled widely at Jaime’s approach, but Genna was staring strangely at Barristan. When their eyes met, her cheeks flushed and she set her attention on Brienne and Jaime. For a moment, she said nothing, but then she began pestering Jaime. 

“You’re filthy! All sweaty and dirty. Don’t touch the babe, Jaime!”

Barristan rolled his eyes at her words. His own feet carried him towards the rock wall after bidding good day to the Free Folk. Collecting his things from the ground, Barristan picked up Jaime’s discarded tunic as well. 

_Lazy lions never pick up after themselves._

Handing Jaime his tunic, Barristan leaned towards Rhaella and stroked the soft, blonde fuzz at the top of her head. The young babe had quickly become Barristan’s weakness. Without turning away from Rhaella, Barristan spoke to Jaime. “I’ll see you for our shift after lunch, Jaime.”

“Where are you going?” Genna began to follow Barristan when his feet moved towards the Keep. 

Barristan’s brows furrowed at the question. His head glanced over his shoulder as Genna approached and fell into step beside him. “Some might describe me as filthy.”

Genna hummed in reply, but she glanced back towards Jaime and Brienne. “Jaime looks worse.”

“Yes, well he’s very dramatic when he loses a match. He rolls about on the ground to make a grand show of it or to complain about foul play.”

A loud guffaw filled the space around them and Genna grabbed his arm as she threw her head back. “Gods, still? He used to do that as a boy on rare occasion that he lost to Addam.”

When Genna smiled freely, her face was radiating. Barristan couldn’t bring himself to stop staring and he felt his cheeks heat. After collecting herself, Genna’s head turned to him and Barristan looked away quickly. 

“You’ll look after them, won’t you? I don’t think they know what they’re doing with that babe.”

“And you think I would know? I’ve never had a babe.” Barristan said the words absently, but it was enough to remind him how much he had sacrificed for most of his life. He would never get to hold grandbabes of his own, though Rhaella felt just as much his.

“You’ve kept Jaime alive well-enough. Babes and Jaime are practically the same thing. You can show those dolts what to do.” Genna nudged his side with her elbow. 

“Of course, I’ll always watch out for them.” Barristan sighed and glanced back at the young couple. Against Genna’s instruction, Jaime was holding Rhaella close and sitting beside Brienne. They looked happy and serene; the sight warming Barristan’s heart.

Arriving back at the Keep, Barristan made his way towards the White Sword Tower. He was eager to wash away the sweat and dirt from the yards, but Genna was still at his side. The expression on her face was difficult to read. Of late, Barristan was able to tell what she wanted or thought just by facial expression alone. 

Genna’s lips parted, but she hesitated. Her brows furrowed and she stared straight ahead when at last she spoke. “Lord Leyton is leaving on the morrow, but he wishes to have supper with me.”

Barristan snorted at the words. “Here I thought he’d never leave that bloody Keep. I had not seen him at the wedding.”

A slight hum met Barristan’s ears as Genna shrugged. “He decided it was time when his fourth wife could take it no longer and left him. He seeks his fifth wife, or at least that’s what he told me two days ago.”

Barristan swallowed thickly at the words. The feeling spreading through him was not one he was unfamiliar with. He last felt the emotion when Ashara looked at Stark longingly at the tourney at Harrenhal many years ago. 

Pushing down the jealousy, Barristan stared ahead blankly. “That sounds nice.”

“Nice? You think that I should take him up on the offer then?” Genna’s eyes bored into Barristan. The question was as challenging as the question she once asked Barristan surrounding her forced marriage to Emmon. 

_Leyton Hightower. Nothing so special about him. He certainly can’t fight._

“If you like that sort of man then why not. I unhorsed him at a tourney once. Didn’t find him too spectacular.” Barristan had tried to sound nonchalant, but he could hear the hint of jealousy in his tone and he hated himself for it.

Genna hummed once more, but she almost sounded resigned. “There’s no harm, I suppose. Well enjoy your evening, Ser Barristan.”

The older woman turned down a separate hallway, leaving Barristan to his thoughts. He chastised himself for feeling anything but happiness for Genna. She wished for someone _bold_ in her chambers, and Lord Leyton certainly must be given the seven children he sired. 

Barristan made his way through the Keep and towards the White Sword Tower. He rifled through his chest of clothing and grumbled when the only clean tunic was one of those Genna had sent. 

_Lovely. Just what I need right now._

Soon, Barristan made his way to the bathhouse. It was a large bathhouse with four oversized tubs. The steam in the room was almost enough to choke a man, but the feel of the water more than made up for it.

Balon, Brynden, and Ned were there; likely having delayed bathing after training. The warm water felt incredible on Barristan’s aching muscles as he entered one of the vacant tubs. His scarred arm tingled as the new skin met hot water. 

Not long after Barristan began washing, Jaime came into the bathhouse. To Barristan’s surprise, Lord Leyton was at his heels. Jaime grumbled as the older lord yammered in his ear. “Does your aunt like flowers? I can send someone to fetch them.”

_Tulips. Only bright red; gods forbid they’re not colorful enough._

“How should I know? She was a child when she wed, so I’ve never seen anyone court her.” Jaime removed his boots and breeches and moved into the large tub with Barristan. His eyes were a desperate plea for aid, but Barristan only snorted and returned to cleaning his hair. Jaime tried to move away from Leyton, but the older lord followed, stepping slowly into the massive bath.

“What sweets does she like?”

 _Lemon cakes._

Jaime’s eyes narrowed at the older lord who sat far too close to Jaime for the younger knight’s liking. “What? Are you cooking for her?”

At Jaime’s question, Leyton snorted. “Of course not! I’ll request it of the bloody bakers.”

When Jaime didn’t reply, Leyton tried another question and scooted even closer to Jaime. Barristan bit back a laugh at Jaime’s expense as the younger man tried to shift away. 

“After supper, perhaps I could take her on a walk. Does she like the gardens? I _really_ don’t care for walks, but I suppose I could try if it helps my cause.”

_The beach if the sun is setting. The gardens otherwise._

Jaime rubbed at his head. His irritation was obvious, but Leyton seemed oblivious. “Why not ask her? Why are you asking me? I just want to bathe.”

Leyton grumbled at the words. A deep scowl settled over his face. “Ask her!? Then she’ll know it wasn’t my idea. I just wish to win her over quickly. Make us seem a strong match.” The lord’s eyes darted around in frustration, but quickly settled on Barristan. “Ser Barristan! From what I can tell, if Genna isn’t with her unhelpful nephews, she’s with you ! Tell me, what does the lady like?”

Barristan startled at both the observation and the question. He considered that it would be honorable to aid the man. It wasn’t as though he wished for Genna to have a poor evening, but then he pondered if it was honorable to lend aid if the man simply wasn’t right for her.

The fool spent a bloody decade in his Keep after all, and Genna loved the fresh air, beach, and adventures. Genna would go mad with boredom. Leyton was also shit with weapons, and he wore far too much grey for Genna’s taste. 

Then there was the matter of his intentions. Leyton seemed more interested in a new wife and bedfellow than getting to know Genna. The way he spoke bothered Barristan.

_She’ll hate all of it. I suppose it might be more honorable to save her._

“I think she likes sunflowers…” _She despises them_. _Too yellow and bulky._ “... and pudding…” _She’ll throw it at him_. “... and she prefers to sit inside and read.” _The library is the one place that she won’t follow Tyrion_.

Barristan bit his lip to stifle a laugh as Leyton smiled and nodded emphatically. “Now here is a helpful man! Tonight would be a waste of effort otherwise.” Leyton grumbled at Jaime once more, but when Barristan glanced at Jaime, he noted a confused expression on the younger man’s face. Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of whatever he intended to say. Mischief sparkled in his eyes before he turned to Leyton.

“Make certain you don’t wear anything too colorful. She’ll hate that. Also the hair… don’t brush it. She likes her men a bit unkempt.”

Barristan glanced away to hide the laughter threatening to spill from his lips. Seemingly satisfied with the information, Leyton left the bath without washing his hair. 

_Perfect. He’ll smell too. She just loves filthy men._

When the man was gone, Jaime’s head snapped to Barristan. “You’re awful. She’s going to beat you over the head with your own boots.”

Barristan feigned innocence. “I was only trying to help.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “Please. She hates everything you said. Sunflowers… pudding… being indoors. Gods. It seems you do as decent a job of tuning her out as I do.”

Barristan never tuned Genna out. The idea of Jaime doing so rankled him. “Mind your aunt, Jaime. You shouldn’t ignore her.”

With a loud guffaw, Jaime leaned back against the edge of the tub. “Yes, because clearly you listen to her.”

Barristan sighed and looked to the water. He spoke quietly so the rest of the bathhouse wouldn’t hear him. “Bright red tulips, lemon cakes, and the beach if they finish supper early enough. Perhaps I should have been honest with him. That was unworthy.” A pang of guilt bubbled in Barristan and he contemplated tracking Leyton down.

A loud laugh from across the tub caught his attention. “That is cruel. I’m quite impressed. Let Leyton figure it out. We’ve had to endure Genna to learn her specific tastes. She won’t like him anyway. Bloody recluse.”

_Endure. Right..._

After lunch, Barristan and Jaime had guard duty. Their shift would end before supper, and Barristan was glad of it. He didn’t want to stand guard outside Jon’s door knowing that Genna was at supper with Leyton. The supper with his sworn brothers would distract him from it all.

After removing his armor, Barristan made his way towards Brienne’s room to visit her and Rhaella. When he arrived, Jaime was neatly stacking his armor beside Brienne’s. Rhaella had just eaten and Barristan was eager to hold the babe. He adored the young girl and was happy to help when the new parents would let her go.

“How are you feeling?” Barristan questioned Brienne as he glanced down at her while taking Rhaella into his arms. 

Brienne groaned at the question and rubbed at her face. “As though my body was torn in half and pieced back together.”

A light chuckle pushed past Barristan’s lips as he continued to gently rock the babe. He had not expected to feel such overwhelming love for someone who could not yet talk or walk, but Barristan knew that he would do anything for the babe in his arms. 

_I’ll protect her as I didn't protect Queen Rhaella. As Jaime wished to, but as the brothers told him to stay out of a king’s personal affairs._

“Well, you look good for someone only pieced back together a week ago.”

Barristan meant the words, though Brienne would never believe them. In his many years, Barristan had his fair share of women after they birthed babes. Comparatively speaking, Barristan thought Brienne was recovering well. Then again, she also had the benefit of a very involved husband. 

Men such as Aerys were cold and distant with their babes, but Jaime was not like most men. He paced the halls with Rhaella at night when she fussed, and he changed her nappies so that Brienne could rest. If one of the Kingsguard wasn’t fussing over Rhaella, Jaime was holding her. 

Brienne sighed and took another long sip of water as Jaime dropped to her side on the edge of the bed. When she lowered the cup, she spoke with pain in her voice “I love Rhaella and would never regret her, but I need to renew my training. I wanted to spar with everyone today. I just… we had not planned for a babe _before_ the dead were dealt with. I can barely swing a sword right now.”

Barristan smiled at Brienne sympathetically. While holding Rhaella, he pointed at Jaime while continuing to look at Brienne. “You expected this one to consider the consequences of constant beddings?”

As Jaime chuckled at her side, Brienne grumbled and tugged at a loose thread on her jerkin. “Well, it’s far too late for all that now. I just… I need to train so that I can keep her safe. So that I can keep _everyone_ safe. I swore a vow.”

With a sigh, Barristan shrugged. “We’ll not let anything happen to her no matter when the dead come. They can’t have this one. We’ll give them Jaime instead.”

Jaime clutched his chest in feigned offense. Inclining his chin towards Rhaella, Jaime spoke teasingly. “If the dead take their time, maybe she’ll defend us.” 

Brienne snorted at the words. “After two Kingsguard terms, this babe will be of age to compete in tourneys. Well… among the squires at least.”

The thought struck Barristan. _Gods. Rhaella will have been with us for five years when their first term ends. Twelve years should they take the option of a second. How strange._

“And her siblings won't be far off.” Jaime chimed in from Brienne’s side. He smiled widely as Brienne rolled her eyes. 

Now as Barristan held Rhaella close, it struck him that this little girl would be removed from his life eventually. They would retire to Tarth at some point with Rhaella and any other little ones they had while serving. The reality of the situation hurt. 

_Perhaps they’ll allow me to visit Tarth, or I’ll see them when they come to visit Jon._

Barristan and Jaime still had not spoken of all that happened moons ago. They did not speak of Jaime nearly dying in Barristan’s arms, the death of Littlefinger, Valyria, or the strain between them in the weeks that followed. 

Jaime would at some point leave with his young family, and Barristan would find himself without the man he considered a son. Genna would remarry someone like Lord Leyton, and then he would lose her too. He would be alone again.

Swallowing down the ache at the troubling thoughts, Barristan forced a smile and looked at the young couple. “Shall we eat?”

As they descended the stairs towards the dining hall, Barristan spoke in hushed tones to Rhaella. “Are you going to sit with me tonight? I imagine that awful Hound might try to steal you from me.”

Brynden and Balon were on duty that evening, but the Hound and Loras were already eating supper. As Barristan entered, the Hound shot up from his seat.

“Give her here. I just finished.” 

A small chuckle escaped Barristan’s lips. The Hound played at disinterest, but he adored Rhaella. That week, Sandor was always the first to finish his meal so that he could hold Rhaella while the others ate. Jaime had teasingly referred to him as ‘Ser Uncle Hound’, but Sandor quite enjoyed the name. Then there was 'Ser Uncle Fish' and 'Ser Uncle Swann'. 

“By the gods, you always hold her!” Loras huffed as he shoveled a forkful of beets into his mouth. He had been dubbed ‘Ser Uncle Flowers’ by Jaime, but Barristan cherished his moniker most of all. 

In the past, Barristan had been called ‘Ser Grandfather’ in jest. Now, he was afforded the title with far more sincerity. Of course, Jaime received his promotion as well. The brothers now called him ‘Ser Dad’ and Brienne was ‘Ser Mum’. 

As they ate supper, Loras shoved a piece of boar into his mouth and eyed the new parents. “So, when will you give us the next little knight?”

Brienne groaned in distaste, but Jaime leaned close to her and smiled widely. “I suppose we should be reasonable. Let this Ser Mum recover. Perhaps you can deliver the next one in a year. A perfect nameday gift for Rhaella.”

The glare Jaime received was answer enough. Brienne forced a smile as her eyes landed on Loras. “I’ve had quite enough carrying and delivering a babe for some time. We’ll wait until after the dead… as originally planned.”

A knowing smile tugged at Loras’ lips when he looked between the pair of them. “I’d wager a year. My room is close enough to the pair of you that I know better than to expect a quiet night. You’ll be with babe in a few moons when Harmon clears you. I get the next one though! The Hound seems to have claimed Rhaella.”

Sandor snorted, but kept his eyes fixed on little Rhaella. “No, she prefers me is all. Babes are smart like dogs. They have a sense people.”

“Oh gods, here we go.” Loras muttered and pushed around the food on his plate. 

A knock at the door caught everyone’s attention. Stepping inside, an attendant bowed at Barristan and extended his hand. “This arrived for you, Lord Commander.”

A sealed missive was in the man’s hand. It was strange that the man would have brought it straight away rather than leave it at his desk. “You can leave it in my study, thank you.”

“Lord Bran said that you needed this now, Ser.”

All eyes landed on Barristan as he glanced at the missive being held out to him. Barristan took the missive and inspected the seal. The letter was not addressed to Barristan and the sigil was of House Dayne. “This isn’t for…”

“Lord Bran said that _you_ need this.” Without another word, the attendant bowed and left the room. 

Barristan’s brows furrowed as he appraised the sigil once more. He traced a finger over the falling star in the sigil as memories of his fallen comrade came to mind. Breaking the seal, Barristan read the message with his brows knitted in confusion.

_My name is Lord Edric of House Dayne. I apologize for not knowing who to address this missive to, but the message is of great import. I was told to send this to the Red Keep. That the boy with a thousand eyes would know who to give this to._

_My uncle was Ser Arthur Dayne, the last Sword of the Morning. Since my uncle’s death, Dawn has been at Starfall awaiting its next rightful owner. A red priestess visited my holding just a fortnight ago. She told me that death is coming for us all, and to survive, Dawn has a role to play in the war to come._

_She said, “Dawn. It must be in the battle to come. Seven I see; four brighter than three. Two under falling stars and one wielding it. Two have touched Dawn; one with the shoulder and the other the hand. Only the man who Ashara loved may wield Dawn.”_

_I regret that I do not understand the meaning. My Aunt Allyria refused to speak on the subject after the red priestess left. She wept for days, but she came to me three nights ago. Only my aunt knew why Ashara flung herself from the Palestone Sword. My Aunt Ashara thought her love dead, but he is alive. If you may tell me who needs this sword, I will have it delivered._

_Lord Edric Dayne of Starfall_

Barristan stared at the missive and reread it twice more. _I don’t understand. She loved Stark. I saw her look at Brandon Stark._

Wordlessly, Barristan stood from his chair. He needed to find Bran to better understand what the missive meant. Distantly, Barristan heard someone say his name, but he was fixated on the words put to parchment. 

Making his way towards Lord Bran’s room, Barristan’s brows furrowed as he continued to read the riddle over and over again. The only part he could make sense of was one line.

_'Two have touched Dawn; one with the shoulder and the other the hand.’_

Jaime was knighted by Dawn, and Barristan had held Dawn at Arthur’s allowance. As Barristan raised his fist to knock on Bran’s door, a voice called out. “Enter, Ser Barristan.”

_Truly. This boy is frightening at times._

When Barristan entered, Bran smiled warmly. “Ser Barristan. Your missive arrived.”

A thousand questions were on the tip of Barristan’s tongue, but his tongue ran dry. Bran waved a hand at the vacant seat opposite him at a small table. 

“I’m sorry for being a bit _raveny_ today, but I knew that if I kept things confusing, you would seek me out in private. I thought it best to have this conversation alone.

Barristan’s brows furrowed as he took a seat. “Lord Bran, with a missive such as this, it would matter little where I received it. I have no idea what to make of it.”

Bran smiled widely and nodded in reply. “Sometimes my father accuses me of speaking in riddles when I’m in more of the three-eyed-raven state. I hardly think I’m as bad as the red priests or priestesses. In fairness, I think they speak strangely because they make up half of it as they go. If they keep it vague enough, you can work out any truth to match their riddles.”

A small laugh pushed past Barristan’s lips. With a missive such as the one in his hand, the words certainly felt a fabrication. As if reading his mind, Bran replied in a grave tone.

“You must wield Dawn.”

With a heavy sigh, Barristan shook his head. “The missive states that the man who Ashara loved must wield the sword. Your uncle is dead, Lord Bran.”

Shaking his head, Bran leaned forward. “She may have _looked_ at my uncle, but Brandon was not the man she loved. When my father returned Dawn to Starfall and brought word of Arthur’s death at the Tower of Joy, Ashara crumbled. Arthur and Ashara were quite close as you know, and she loved him dearly, but there was another man she saw daily and loved _differently_. She asked my father a question. ‘And what of the other Kingsguard? What of Ser Barristan?’ In truth, my father was not certain, but from his vantage point at the battle, you were as good as dead. He said, ‘He was bold indeed. Took an arrow, spear, and sword.’ Ashara mourned you.”

Barristan stood angrily and shook his head. “No. You’ve it wrong. She didn’t love me as I did her. She did not mourn at the word of my assumed death.”

“I’m sorry. I had not tried to tell you before as I didn’t think any good would come from upsetting you. When I saw the red priestess at Starfall, I realized that we need Dawn. It isn’t Valyrian steel, though it has a purpose.”

The room felt to be closing in on Barristan. For over twenty years, he thought his love of Ashara had been unrequited. Of course, he never could have acted on it, and it was for the best. What hurt more was hearing that belief of his death was what compelled Ashara from the tower. Rumors had swirled over the years of her fall. 'Heartache' they said, but no one certain at what. 

“I wish that I didn’t have to share this with you, but… I saw the letter being written. It was a coincidence, really. I’ve been following the red priestess for different reasons. You must wield Blackfyre, but like Ser Arthur, you’ll have two swords at your hip. In my visions, I can see you fighting with Blackfyre, but I don’t know what to make of Dawn. The red priestess sees something in the flames, but I don’t see what will happen; only paths to things that could be.”

Barristan’s fists clenched at this side. It hurt to hear all of the information, but he would do what was needed of him. “What does the rest of it mean?”

With a deep breath, Bran looked towards the window with narrowed eyes. “I’ll admit, that is also a bit unclear. I see the Kingsguard with me in the godswood in all paths. I assume the seven of you are the seven figures she sees. Four being brighter than three others, I _think_ I understand. It has something to do with your roles in the war. Two under a falling star are Brienne and the Hound. They are descendants of Ser Duncan, though not even the Hound knows of his lineage. Ser Duncan had a falling star on his sigil. As to ‘one wielding a fallen star’, that is you. Of course, there is the House Dayne sigil which has a falling star, but there is also the more literal meaning. Dawn is not Valyrian steel, but it was forged from a falling star. A red meteor. Jaime is the fourth that I see. The four of you are the clearest in my visions.” 

Taking in the information, Barristan exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair. There was one question that Barristan feared the answer to. Turning to Bran, Barristan considered the young boy. “These seven figures you see in your vision which you believe to be the Kingsguard… no matter the path, are there seven still when it is over?”

Bran’s face fell at the question. Like a frightened boy, his fingers twisted nervously around each other. “In no path do I see all seven. At worst, we are overrun by death. At best… not seven..”

Barristan felt overwhelmed with information. He couldn’t bring himself to speak further, so he merely offered a nod. The walk back to the White Sword Tower seemed the longest it had ever been. Barristan’s legs felt as heavy as his heart. 

_I don’t wish to bury more of my comrades. I will not bury Brienne nor Jaime. I can't lose Jaime again._

When Barristan entered his study, he was startled by Jaime’s presence. The younger knight was on his hands and knees rolling up the stained rug. 

An incredulous expression lined Barristan’s face. “What are you doing!?”

Jaime stopped and turned to look at Barristan. “Uh… we came to check on you. To make sure you were alright. Rhaella spit up on the rug.”

Barristan’s face scrunched at the words. “What is it with you Lannisters and vomiting on my rug?”

Stepping into the room, Barristan pulled Jaime’s arm away from the rug. “Leave it. I’ll have the staff tend to it.”

Barristan rounded the desk and dropped into the chair with a sigh. He dragged his hand down his face in exhaustion and groaned. Everything hurt. His head. His body. His heart.

“This rug is shit. It should have been replaced moons ago. I’ll get you a new one.” Jaime began to tug the rug away, but Barristan leaned forward on the desk and pinned Jaime in place with a sharp gaze.

“I said leave it!” 

Barristan needed the rug. The day’s information and the rug were a reminder as to why Barristan wasn’t made for love. It hurt too much to care so deeply; particularly when everyone he loved seemed cursed for it. Barristan didn’t want to lose anyone else. 

Jaime stood with a huff and took a step closer. “I can get one to match this if you like it so much. I’m sorry I ruined it.”

“I don’t want a new rug. I want _that_ rug. Now leave it!”

Barristan rounded the desk and unrolled the rug with his feet. The effort did little to rectify the matter as Jaime tried to tug it towards the door. “Would you stop it! It’s more vomit than rug at this point!”

The men began to push one another in an effort to gain control over the rug. Rage bubbled in Barristan at Jaime’s inability to just walk away; to leave the rug and Barristan. “Enough! Gods you’re terribly annoying. Why can't you simply _leave!"_

_Leave the room. Leave the Keep. Leave King’s Landing._

The meaning was not lost on Jaime as he stopped struggling to get a grip on the rug. At the expression on Jaime's face, Barristan immediately regretted his words. With a subtle nod, Jaime began to stand from where he was crouched. “Apologies.”

_Gods dammit._

“Wait. I’m sorry.” Barristan grabbed Jaime’s arm, effectively holding him in place. With a deep breath and closed eyes, Barristan struggled to form an adequate response to erase the unintended damage. “I’m just tired, and the rug is fine. It’s just a bit of spit up.”

“I’m not an idiot. I can tell the difference between anger and fatigue.” Hurt lingered in Jaime’s tone as he glared at Barristan. 

Shifting back from his knees to his ass, Barristan sat on the floor with a huff. He ran a hand down his face and stared at the awful rug under his feet. “I didn’t intend to take it out on you. I’ve just had a less than ideal day.”

“What did the missive say? You looked... off.” Jaime’s tone was as conflicted as his expression; hurt and curiosity dueled for dominance. 

“It was from House Dayne. Apparently I’m to wield Dawn now too. Ridiculous. I can hardly swing one sword as effectively as I used to, and now they mean to give me two swords.”

Understanding washed over Jaime’s face. He knew the sword as well as Barristan. Flopping to the floor beside Barristan, Jaime stared at the rug, just as Barristan was. “Why? It’s not Valyrian steel.” 

“Some red priestess and Bran said that I must. Neither knows or indicated why; only that I must have it with me. Some nonsense about…” Barristan paused; the words on his tongue felt foreign. The effort of giving voice to the old wound felt too much. “... Ashara’s love being the only one to wield it.”

Barristan didn’t need to glance at Jaime to know his reaction. A small gasp and wide eyes took in the information before replying to the words. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

Jaime’s fingers tapped on his forearms as he crossed his arms over his knees. “You shouldn’t pay mind to the rumors of her death. No one could possibly know why…”

“Her sister confirmed it.” Barristan felt numb stating the truth. 

_The rug needs saving. This is a shit day._

A warm hand reached over and grabbed Barristan’s forearm. It was meant in comfort, but seeing Jaime’s hand resting above the wound from Valyria nearly broke Barristan. Like the rug, it was a physical reminder of the emotional destruction that love brought. 

Barristan did not recall willing his lips to move, but they whispered of their own accord. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “We can send them to Tarth.”

Slowly, Barristan’s head turned towards Jaime. Confusion clouded his eyes as he met a pair of emeralds staring back at him. “Who?”

“Your kin. I doubt one or two less soldiers will make a difference. Your great-nephew, is it? Is the nephew still alive too?”

Barristan looked back at the rug. “I don’t even know the boy’s name. I’m certain they said as much in the missive, but… I hardly know.”

Jaime’s voice was uncertain as he tried to offer reassurance. “Well… whoever you like then. I’m certain King Jon won’t mind.”

A bitter laugh pushed past Barristan’s lips. All he could picture was Jaime dead in his arms. Jaime dead in the study. Jaime dead in the godswood per Bran’s vision. 

“Yes, I’m certain he won’t mind. I would only ask to ship off our best swordsman and his family.” Barristan pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t certain if he said the words that followed out loud or in his head. “I can’t watch you die a second time.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t intend on dying.” Something in Jaime’s tone made Barristan laugh, but a deep fear had taken root in his heart. He tugged Jaime close and held him as though the Stranger would take the younger knight if he let go. 

Barristan wasn’t certain how long they sat there like that, but Jaime eventually spoke; his words muffled against Barristan. “But the rug though…”


	71. Jaime XXIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime adapts to life with a young baby. Time slowly passes and Rhaella's grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I had the wrong chapter number written into my word docs (yeah plural because I'm a hot mess and have stuff all over the place for this fic). I need to up the total count by 3. Oops!

Jaime sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at the sight of Brienne nursing Rhaella. Seeing her as the Warrior-Maiden turned Warrior-Mother made his heart swell. Everytime Jaime thought it impossible to love Brienne more than he already did, she found a way to force his heart’s expansion. 

“Is he alright?” Brienne’s sleep-heavy voice drifted through the small room as her fingers stroked Rhaella’s face.

Laying down beside Brienne, Jaime rolled to his side and wrapped his arms around Brienne’s waist as she sat upright fluffed against pillows. “Bit of a rough day. He’ll be fine.”

Brienne hummed; her eyes trained on Rhaella’s face. “I imagine so. Did you know that your aunt dined with Lord Leyton this evening?”

Jaime snorted. “Do I know? Gods. I had to endure Leyton trailing me about and asking after her preferences. The man followed me into the bathhouse, Brienne. There were other tubs and he harassed me.” 

Brienne chuckled lightly before her hand moved from Rhaella’s head to Jaime’s. Her fingers ran through his hair and produced a catlike purr from Jaime. “I heard about it from Genna. I’m shocked she agreed. I think she was only doing it to make Barristan jealous.”

A loud groan and eyeroll were all Jaime could muster. The japes about his aunt and Barristan were tiring. After the last conversation in Barristan’s study, Jaime knew the older knight’s heart was still with Ashara. 

Barristan seemed resigned to a life without love after losing her, and Jaime understood his stance on the matter. While he had hoped Barristan would find someone to love, Jaime understood what it would feel like to lose true love. If he lost Brienne, Jaime knew that he could not bring himself to take another. 

“Truly, Jaime? You don’t see it? It’s becoming rather ridiculous between the pair of them.”

Quiet laughter shook Jaime’s chest and the bed they rested on. “He enjoys having a go at her. When I proved useless to Leyton, Barristan intentionally gave him all the wrong advice.”

“Oh gods.” Brienne groaned as she stared down at Jaime. “How can you say that and  _ not  _ see it then? Do you not think he gave poor advice to Leyton because he fancies Genna. It’s so obvious.” 

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “No. He was trying not to laugh the entire time. He doesn’t fancy Genna. I’m not certain he will love anyone again. The missive brought word of Ashara Dayne. He’s quite upset.”

Many moons ago, Jaime had shared Barristan’s resignation at never finding love in his life. While Jaime would never tell anyone aside from Brienne, he knew that Brienne would keep the secret of Barristan’s love of Ashara. 

Jaime shared what the missive stated and how Barristan unwound before him in the study. At the words, Brienne’s face fell. “I told you that Ser Barristan loves you. You’re like a son to him. The two of you are worse with words than me which is saying quite a lot. Tell me that awful rug is gone.”

“It took some convincing, but he’ll get rid of it.”

Brienne hummed in approval and her fingers continued moving through Jaime’s hair. “Good. It’s awful. Apparently, this little one couldn’t stand the sight of it either.”

At mention of Rhaella, Jaime pushed up onto his elbow and smiled at the babe. “Rhaella, did you watch daddy spar today? I beat your old, slow grandfather.”

Brienne’s eyes rolled dramatically. “And lost your leg in the process.”

Jaime huffed in reply. “Gods. First Barristan, now you. It would have been a minor flesh wound.” 

Soon, Rhaella finished nursing and fell asleep contentedly at Brienne’s breast. While the staff had prepared the room next door for a nursery, the babe was too young and stayed with Jaime and Brienne. The brothers had surprised them with a custom crib for the babe the day of her birth. 

They had hired a carpenter to make a crib that featured each of the sworn brothers’ House sigils carved along the sides, but the symbol of the Kingsguard was etched into the headboard and footboard. It was one of Jaime’s favorite gift bestowed upon them to welcome the newest Lannister. The other gift that Jaime treasured was from Myrcella. 

The young girl had made a stuffed lion for the young babe that had the Tarth sigil over its chest. Jaime was impressed by how well-made the stuffed animal was, but even if it wasn’t, that it was made by Myrcella’s hand was all that mattered. 

Taking the sleeping babe from Brienne, Jaime placed Rhaella in her crib and smiled at her for a moment before moving back to the bed. The love he felt for the little girl was overwhelming. He found himself waking at all hours of the night just to check on her. 

Moving back to the bed, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne and snuggled close. He smiled against her skin and bid her goodnight. When he dreamed that night, Jaime dreamed of running through the fields with Brienne and Rhaella. It was a dream he would have remained in gladly, but daylight came.

The next day, Jaime broke his fast with Brienne and their sworn brothers. Balon and the Hound had guard duty that morning, after which Jaime and Loras would relieve them. The knight from the Reach had feigned distaste during their shared meal. _ “Gods Brienne, if you ever cared about me, you’d recover faster so that I can resume my shifts with my preferred Lannister.” _

Olenna and Catelyn came by afterwards to visit with Brienne. They wanted to share womanly advice on how best to heal certain  _ areas _ , and Jaime had little desire to hear it. Making his way to Barristan’s study, Jaime knocked and waited for the call to enter. 

Barristan was writing a missive at his desk, and the rug was rolled against the wall where Jaime left it the night prior.  _ Thank the gods he hasn’t set it out again. _

“The princess has kicked you out so early this morning?” Barristan spoke without looking up to appraise Jaime. His eyes were fixed on the words being put to parchment.

“Lady Olenna and Lady Catelyn have come by to ask after her more intimate areas. I have little desire to listen to them speak of their own.”

Barristan snorted and waved at the empty seat before his desk. “Go on then. Feel free to hide as you would from Genna.”

At the mention of Genna, Jaime thought back on the conversation with Brienne last night.  _ Absurd. She’ll see for herself when my aunt takes another husband and Barristan toasts the man for saving them all. _

“Do you need help transcribing that?” Jaime leaned forward, but did not attempt to read the missive. He knew better than to read the Lord Commander’s letters without invitation. 

Barristan paused and shook his head. “It’s.. no. I need to reply to Lord Edric.”

The sorrow in Barristan’s tone reminded Jaime of the unfortunate information the older knight received last night. Sitting back in his chair, Jaime sighed and glanced towards the window. 

“You should let me or someone else get the sword. Going there will do you no good.”

Barristan’s hand stilled at the offer, but he said nothing in reply. For some time Jaime sat quietly staring out the window and wondering at how differently things might have been for Barristan if Ashara still lived. 

Abruptly, the door to Barristan’s study flew open to reveal a miffed looking Genna. “Good! Just the two fools I wish to see!”

_ Seven hells. Now what? The day has barely begun. I’ve hardly had a chance to piss her off yet. _

“Would either of you care to ask how my night went?”

Jaime’s head turned away from Genna and towards Barristan. The older knight appeared to sink in his chair as he stared sheepishly at Genna. Biting back a laugh, Jaime turned to Genna and feigned innocence. 

“Pray tell my most beloved aunt… how fared your evening?” Jaime’s tone dripped with sarcasm as he watched the older woman’s eyes narrow and dart between him and Barristan. For his part, Barristan said nothing. His face reddened and he stared into his lap.

Stalking forward, Genna tilted her head at Jaime. “Well nephew, thanks to your advice, I couldn’t have found the man more visually repulsive if I tried. Grey clothing. Filthy. Unkempt.”

Jaime snorted and sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “That’s very rude to say about whatever man you speak of, but I’m afraid that I lack context.”

_ I will not admit to any part in this. _

Genna’s unamused expression greeted Jaime’s innocent smile. Then her eyes settled on Barristan. Moving closer to the desk, Genna leaned forward. “And you… sunflowers, pudding, and the gods damned library. Lord Leyton was shocked at how little I cared for his efforts, particularly after your offered advice.”

Barristan’s lips parted to speak, but he thought better of it. At his silence, Genna leaned closer and snarled. “Well!? Suddenly you’re out of thoughts, Selmy!?”

“I’m sorry.” Barristan’s voice was small as he looked up at Genna through his lashes. Jaime had never seen the man look so small as he did under Genna’s glare. 

“Aunt Genna, relax. It was only in good fun.” 

Genna’s head snapped to Jaime, but her body continued to lean forward over Barristan’s desk. “Good fun? This fool encouraged me to accept the bloody invitation, and then does everything he can to ensure my misery!? He even gets my own nephew in on the  _ fun _ !?”

“No, Jaime had nothing to do with it. It was me. I’m sorry.”

Genna’s attention was back on Barristan. She rounded the desk and grabbed his chin. Jaime knew the look in her eyes. Barristan was fucked. 

Anytime Genna’s fingers curled around Jaime’s chin as a boy, he knew that he was either in serious trouble or about to be told something of great importance. Genna had nothing of consequence to tell Barristan other than directions to the deepest of the Seven Hells. It was a tongue lashing he was about to get. 

Tugging Barristan’s chin to force their eyes to meet, Genna growled at Barristan. “Why!?”

“He’s not right for you.”

_ Fair point. I think the same. _

Whatever answer Genna expected, it was not that. Her face reddened as her ire increased. “That's all!? That’s your reason? You had the opportunity to tell me as much when I asked, but instead, you decided to make a jape of it.”

Barristan’s eyes quickly darted to Jaime before returning to Genna’s. “No, I didn’t mean to make a jape of it.”

Jaime snorted, but quickly covered his mouth.  _ Shit.  _

The sound did not go unnoticed by Genna, but Jaime was surprised to see hurt in her eyes rather than rage. “Very well. The pair of you enjoy your games.”

Genna released Barristan’s chin, but her eyes remained fixed on him. “I’ll be heading back to the Rock earlier than planned. Brienne has ample septas to select from for Rhaella’s care. Don’t write me, Selmy! Who knows… perhaps I’ll be in Oldtown.”

Without another word, Genna stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut. Jaime’s eyes went wide as he considered what had happened. “Gods. She is properly pissed. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Glancing back at Barristan, Jaime was surprised to see melancholy in his eyes. Jaime tried to improve the man’s spirits as best he could. “Everything with Genna is over the top. She’ll calm down. Look at it this way, you won’t need to endure her constant letters and emissaries any longer.”

Despite Jaime’s efforts, the words did little to improve Barristan’s mood. When Genna left the Red Keep two days later, she seemed to make an effort to bid goodbye to everyone except Jaime and Barristan. It was only before she got in the carriage that Genna even acknowledged Jaime. “Stay safe, Jaime.”

* * *

A moon after Genna’s early departure, Lord Edric arrived in King’s Landing. Despite offers from Brienne and Jon to retrieve the sword by way of dragon, the young lord wished to journey to the city. Jaime stood beside Brynden in Barristan’s study as the young lord entered the room and bowed towards Barristan. 

“Ser Barristan, it’s an honor to meet you. In Dorne, many consider you the only man who could have bested my uncle  _ fairly _ .” 

The meaning was not lost on Jaime, Barristan, or Brynden. In the young lord’s hand, a covered object that could only be Dawn was gripped tightly. With a heavy sigh, Edric handed the object to Barristan and nodded. 

The Lord Commander smiled and nodded in thanks. “I’ll return it to you myself after the war is done. You have my word.”

Edric’s eyes darted to Brynden and Jaime before settling back on Barristan. “There is one other thing that I need to tell you. I was rather hoping it could be in private.”

Jaime watched as Barristan turned and nodded at him and Brynden. The dismissal was clear, and Jaime moved quickly into the hallway. Both Brynden and Jaime had been eager to see Dawn, but they would need to wait a while longer. Whatever words Edric shared with Barristan did not take long. The young lord exited the room and offered a small smile and nod as he passed Jaime.

Brynden, Jaime, and Barristan inspected the blade. Dawn was as Jaime remembered it. It was an incredible sword of the highest quality. The blade was sharper than Valyrian steel, and Jaime could still recall the feel of it’s edge when the flat of the blade touched his shoulder.

As they stared at the blade, Brienne wandered into the room with Rhaella in her arms. “Ser Brynden, Lady Catelyn is looking for you.”

With a quiet grumble, Brynden moved away from the small group huddled around Dawn. Like a whining child, he questioned Brienne. “Did she say why? I told her that I would meet her for lunch.”

“She didn’t say, but Rickon is with her.”

At mention of Rickon, Brynden huffed. The young boy had joined Catelyn in the city to serve as a page. While Rickon had matured since Jaime last saw him, the young boy refused part from his direwolf during the day. 

Jaime surmised that was the source of Catelyn’s request. While on duty a day ago, Jaime overheard Catelyn suggesting that perhaps the direwolf could be of use to the Kingsguard when Rickon was working.

When Brynden left, Brienne approached and stared at Dawn. Her lips parted in wonder as she appraised the weapon. Slowly and without looking at Jaime, Brienne handed him Rhaella so that she could inspect the blade. Jaime snorted at her reaction and took the babe.

“Sorry, sweetling. Your mother finds the blade more exciting than you.”

Taking the sword to inspect it’s edge, Brienne muttered in reply. “Shut up, Jaime.” Her wrist tilted the sword to catch the light on the patterns in the blade. “How can it be so old, and in such perfect condition?”

Barristan and Brienne began fussing over the blade as Jaime stood from his chair. “Come along, Rhaella. Mum and grandfather don’t care about us. They’ve a new toy.”

Jaime walked the hallway and spoke quietly to Rhaella. The young babe stared up at him with large, blue eyes. Jaime had been thrilled to see Rhaella inherit the trait from Brienne. He thought himself a man rich in sapphires, but unlike their gem counterpart, these were priceless. 

“Shall we get you a new nappy? My little girl shall not be uncomfortable, if even for a moment.” A little fist curled around Jaime’s index finger as he poked her nose. As Jaime approached his room, an attendant came down the hallway.

“Ser Jaime, a missive for you.”

Nodding in thanks, Jaime outstretched his hand to take the missive. He appraised the seal and noted the roaring lion proudly pressed into the ink. “Look Rhaella, your great-aunt has sent more scolding words in reply to my last missive.” 

Stepping into his room, Jaime sat on the bed with Rhaella held close. He opened the missive and sighed as he read. 

_ Jaime, _

_ As I said, I am not mad at you… only disappointed. You of all people know how miserable a life without love would be. I finally free myself of your wretched uncle, and rather than support me, you make a jape of my attempt to find happiness. I know you say that it wasn’t meant cruelly, but it was ill-spirited.  _

_ Thank you for the gift you arranged to have sent, though I would prefer if you sent eligible lords of my age rather than lemon cakes from Lannisport.  _

_ As to your request, no! I will not write Barristan. I don’t care how sorry he is or how pathetic he looks.  _

_ Genna _

_ PS I hope you’re not holding Rhaella all night long still! She’s over a moon now and should sleep for longer periods _

Jaime snorted and glanced at Rhaella. “We can do as we like. Ignore your great-aunt.”

With a sigh, Jaime stood from the bed and placed the missive on the table. He hoped to train before his shift that day, but parting with Rhealla was always unpleasant. The young babe made soft sounds in his arms as Jaime moved towards the window. 

The weather looked miserable. Dark clouds had settled over the city, and the weather was quite cold again. “Someday, we’ll enjoy the view on an island, Rhaella. Your mother promises its much nicer than this shit, but I’ve not spent much time there myself.”

As Jaime stood at the window, Brienne returned to the room. She placed a kiss to Jaime’s lips before taking the babe. Despite Genna’s insistence, neither liked putting the little girl down. 

“I see Maester Harmon today. With the bleeding stopped, he says I could resume training in a moon turn.” Brienne’s voice was laced with hope as she smiled at Rhaella. 

Jaime hummed at the words. He knew how eager Brienne was to return to the yards, but he wanted her to take it easy. They still had no word of the Night King’s progress, though preparations were well underway. 

As Jaime readied himself for training, he spoke questioningly to Brienne. “When does that septa arrive?”

“Next week.” Brienne’s voice sounded pained at the thought. “I told her that aid won’t be needed at night. Jon is allowing her to occupy a room at the Keep since the White Sword Tower would not be an appropriate location for her.”

“What’s her name? Ass or something weird was it?” 

“Jaime! Gods, what is wrong with you? Septa Aslen. Not ass.” Brienne huffed by the window and grumbled to Rhaella. 

_ Seven help me. I’ll never remember it. _

* * *

  
  


Five moons later, Jaime stood in the yards bent and the waist and breathing heavily. “Can we take rest yet?”

“My form is still off. Just a while longer.” Brienne moved back into position and looked to Jaime expectantly. 

With a heavy sigh, Jaime righted himself. They had been in the yards for hours with seemingly no end in sight. To their right, the septa held Rhaella and bounced the babe on her knee. She was a middle aged woman with kind eyes, auburn hair, and crooked teeth. Fortunately for Jaime, she had a never-ending supply of patience. 

It had taken only a week into the woman’s employ for Jaime to accidentally call her Septa Ass, but he quickly corrected to Septa Astin and apologized. The woman bit back a laugh and nodded slowly, but the Hound had grumbled as he held Rhaella in his arms.  _ “Don't be such a dumb fuck. Her name is Septa Aslen. Pronounced 'As-lin' ,though you seem fairly confident it's 'Ass-len' so perhaps I'm confused.” _

Now the woman was as much a part of their daily lives as Rhaella’s aunts; blood and chosen. When Daenerys was willing to put Rhaella down, Olenna and Catelyn fought over the young girl. At six moons old, Rhaella had stolen the hearts of the castle staff. 

Rhaella had a golden complexion and soft, golden ringlets atop her hair. The young babe had Brienne’s eyes, and was showing early signs of inheriting House Tarth’s height. At six moons, the girl was of height to some one-year-olds in the city.

War preparations were moving along. Ample dragonglass arrows, arakhs, swords, axes, and daggers had been forged. Jon had written to House Tarly and House Corbray asking that they use their Valyrian steel in battle.

House Corbray had replied indicating that  _ Lady Forlorn _ would be sent to the Keep for one of the Kingsguard to wield instead. Ser Lyonel had died of chill, and neither of his brothers had come to claim the blade. 

Based on Bran’s vision, Jon decided to give the Hound  _ Lady Forlorn _ to fight the dead with. Bran had also shared with Brienne and the Hound that they shared a great-grandfather in Ser Duncan. The revelation brought Jaime much amusement. “Did it really need confirming? The pair of you could see over the Wall without taking the lift up.”

Brienne and the Hound had beaten him good that day in the yards. As for Lord Tarly, when he visited court two moons ago at the behest of Lady Olenna, he carried Heartsbane at his hip. When he heard the plan to position Bran in the godswood with the Kingsguard to defend him, the older lord offered his Valyrian steel as well.  _ “Just give me a decent dragonglass sword and dagger. Dickon and I will fight hard beside Lord Stark outside the gates.” _

With Ser Brynden now in possession of Littlefinger’s Valyrian dagger, only Balon and Loras were without the precious steel. The two sparred for the right to wield Heartsbane and Loras won. As Balon grumbled at the loss, Jon laughed and unsheathed Longclaw.  _ “Ser Balon, you’ll wield this. I’ll be on the back of Rhaegal and it would be a waste to not use this fighting the dead.” _

While Barristan was not pleased about it, Ned and Robb would lead the stand against the wights outside the gates while Jon and Daenerys would command the dragons. When the Lord Commander protested and said it was his duty to stay with Jon, the king reminded Barristan of his new vows.  _ “I charged you with protecting more than me. You all are to protect the realm. The realm will fall if Bran dies. I need our best knights to guard him when the White Walkers and Night King arrive. Hopefully we can kill most from the sky and ground before they reach the godswood.” _

The city would eventually be evacuated to ensure the people’s safety and afford warm homes for the soldiers. Ultimately, the fight would happen outside the city gates, but House Stark insisted that the cold would become unbearable when the next Long Night descended upon them. Bran concurred and warned that sleeping in the fields would not ensure optimal strength of the men. The army of living totaled 200,000; all of which could fit comfortably inside the city. 

Most of the people from north of King’s Landing would be sent to the islands surrounding the mainland or to Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, or the westernmost points of the West. When the time came, the small council would be sent to Tarth. The island was close to the city, and afforded a degree of protection to many; among them Rhaella who would be watched over by Genna and Tyrion.

As Jaime and Brienne sparred a while longer, a booming voice filled the yards. “There she is! My little girl!”

At the sound of her father’s voice, Brienne stopped sparring to smile at Selwyn. Her face quickly fell into mock offense when the older lord moved towards Rhaella and scooped up the babe. “My favorite Lannister!”

“Really? Not me?” Jaime teased from Brienne’s side as they sheathed their blades. Brienne wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and spoke questioningly. 

“I thought you were due to arrive on the morrow?” Brienne walked towards her father and raised a brow. The older lord placed a dozen kisses to Rhaella’s giggling face before he addressed his daughter. 

“The tour of the Stormlands took less time than I thought. All the vassals are prepared to house the living when the time comes. A few still struggle to believe the threat, but they’re cooperating.”

Selwyn held Rhaella in his right arm and pulled Brienne into an embrace with his left. “Gods, child! You smell something awful!” 

Patting Brienne’s sweaty head, Selwyn glanced at Jaime. “Oh… you appear to have spent ample time in the dirt, my boy.” 

Jaime appraised himself and chuckled. While he was the superior swordsman compared to Brienne, she had managed to knock him to his ass a few times. Of course, Jaime was a bit dramatic about it.

Before he could reply, Selwyn pulled him into a firm hug. “My little knights. The pair of you will sully the bathhouse tubs with your stink.”

_ Little? I can’t recall the last time someone called me little.  _

Their group moved towards the Keep slowly as Selywn updated them on other matters in the Stormlands. As Lord Paramount, Selwyn expected Brienne to have similar dealings with the vassals when the time came. The thought of her as knight, mother, Evenstar, and Lady Paramount caused Jaime’s chest to swell with pride. 

The older lord offered to watch Rhaella while Jaime and Brienne bathed. Jaime was thrilled to take Selwyn up on the offer. Finding alone time with Brienne proved difficult with a little one to tend to. Whenever they could slip away together, they took full advantage of the opportunity… and the moon tea.

When at last they emerged from their room freshly bathed and in clean clothing, the pair found Selwyn in Barristan’s study. The two men were on the floor playing with Rhaella as she crawled over them, giggling loudly as she went. Rhaella began crawling just a week prior, and the septa insisted she would be an early walker. Nothing could contain Rhaella of late, and Jaime groaned at how determined the young babe could be at such a young age.

Selwyn glanced up at them and snorted. “Oh good. Here I thought the pair of you sailed to Tarth to ride out the rest of your first term.”

Brienne’s face flushed at the words, but Jaime could do little more than bite back a laugh. They joined the older men on the floor and watched as Rhaella crawled to them excitedly. 

“Ser Barristan was a gallant knight and saved me from Olenna. The woman is exhausting! Almost as bad as Genna, who by the way won’t stop pestering me about Ser Eldon.”

Jaime chuckled at the words and glanced at Brienne with a small smirk. Her eyes however were appraising Barristan who suddenly seemed rather interested at the patterns on his new rug. 

Clearing her throat, Brienne met Selwyn’s eyes as she pulled Rhaella onto her lap. “Why is she asking about Ser Eldon?” 

“Come now, Brienne. The man has been lonely for years since his wife passed. That son of his never visits; especially since having Alyn. Island life can be lonely, and he refuses the brothels on Estermont. He and Genna got along well-enough in the past.”

Barristan stood abruptly and grabbed some missives off his desk. “I need to get these to the rookery. Stay as long as you need to hide from Lady Olenna.”

As the door closed behind Barristan, Brienne spoke through gritted teeth at her father. “Don’t encourage her. She is getting more than enough letters from lords of late.”

Selwyn chuckled and shook his head. His voice was teasing as he reached for Rhaella. “Desperate times indeed.” As he lifted the young girl above his head, Selwyn smiled before lowering her and speaking more seriously. “Genna is a good woman and Emmon was just… awful. Let her have a little fun, Brienne. Eldon isn’t so bad. He would do right by her.”

Jaime watched as Brienne huffed and shook her head. “Let her decide without giving input. I think she’s just… upset… and considering men she would otherwise not.”

Biting back a laugh, Jaime leaned towards Selwyn and spoke conspiratorially. “Brienne thinks that my aunt and Barristan fancy one another. She’s quite adorable about it, if not annoying.”

Brienne tisked in reply, but Selwyn only laughed and looked at Rhaella. “Do you hear that, sweetling? Your great-aunt and your other grandfather? What do you have to say about that?” Glancing at Brienne, Selwyn raised a brow. “I will say that Barristan is  _ certainly _ Genna’s type, but I don’t envision she would have much luck there. The man is married to his sword.”

“Can he not be a committed knight and long for love?” Brienne spoke challengingly at her father, earning only a heavy sigh from the older man.

“Fine. I’ll not encourage it. She can figure it out herself. Shall we go eat? I’m quite hungry and this little girl seems to be too. She thinks my finger a snack.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll start having some bigger time leaps now. This chapter spans 6 months (starting 1 week after Rhaella's birth)


	72. Brienne XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year since Rhaella's birth, Brienne reflects and adapts to changes. They find out the timeline for the Night King's army moving south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW content at the end.

A year had passed since Rhaella’s birth. The earliest days of training after birthing Rhaella had been frustrating to Brienne. She felt slower and weaker. Her core muscles did not rebound as quickly as she anticipated, and it felt as though she had to work twice as hard to regain her form. 

By a year out, Brienne felt herself again. Her body was conditioned and lean. When Brienne wasn’t on duty or doting on Rhaella, she was in the yards. She spent more hours in the training yards than her sworn brothers combined to ensure she was fit to protect Jon and the realm when the time came. While they did have Septa Aslen for Rhaella, the woman hardly felt necessary. So many loved ones surrounded Rhaella that the septa seemed a decorative piece in the room.

First, there was Rhaella’s aunt, Daenerys. Brienne thought back on the moment Daenerys met Rhaella. 

_The day after Jon’s wedding_

“Where is she!? Where is my niece!? I have a niece!?” Daenerys ran down the hall screaming. 

It was only an hour after Brienne birthed the young girl. Most of her sworn brothers including Barristan were still in the room. No one seemed willing to leave, but Brienne was exhausted. She fell in and out of sleep as Jaime spoke enthusiastically at the foot of the bed. His hand absently rubbed Brienne’s leg as he held Rhaella in his right arm.

A flurry of skirts and silver-blonde hair came into view as Brienne forced herself to sit upright. “Oh gods! Look at her!” 

Daenerys reached out for Rhaella; her eyes fixed on the babe as she grabbed the little one from Jaime’s right arm. “Come see your aunt. This awful man won’t bother you when I’m around.”

Jaime snorted at the words, but let Daenerys have her fun at his expense. A wide smile stretched across Daenerys’ face as she held the babe. Moving towards Brienne, Daenerys sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. “Sister, she is perfect. What is her name?”

Brienne was not certain how Daenerys would react to the name. With a small smile, Brienne met the younger woman’s violet eyes. “Rhaella.”

That was the moment Daenerys dissolved into a puddle of tears. The younger Targaryen’s left arm reached out for Brienne. While holding Rhaella in her right arm between them, Daenerys sobbed and hugged Brienne tightly. “Perfect. Our mother would be proud and honored. You brought a piece of her back to us. Thank you.”

  
  


After that day, Daenerys frequented King’s Landing far more than usual. It was lovely to see the bond between niece and aunt. On each trip to the city, Daenerys made ample time to hold and play with her niece. For as many lions, moons, and suns adorned Rhaella’s clothing, the young girl had just as many with dragons. 

Daenerys often teased Jon when the three of them took a private meal together.She would hold up Rhaella and speak sweetly. _“I’m starting to think the three-headed dragon is meant to represent us strong Targaryen women rather than me, your mom, and your cousin.”_

Then there was Jon. Jon and Arianne had been the next visitors the day that Rhaella was born. He was only moments behind Daenerys, but Jon teased that it was his right as king to know before his aunt. 

Of course, neither Brienne nor Jaime had told Daenerys. They had wondered at who informed her, but then all of House Stark showed up in the crowded room. Bran had winked and shrugged at the new parents. _“I might have told a few people in the Tower of the Hand. I didn’t tell Daenerys though. One of the Gold Cloaks told Addam after Harmon returned from here.”_

Brienne and Jaime knew then. While they were not yet wed, Addam, like Jaime, would sneak in and out of Daenerys’ room before sunrise. It was likely he encountered one of the Gold Cloaks on the way to his room. The men held a great respect for Addam after his time in the city when Cersei was overthrown. 

It was an hour after that when House Lannister arrived. Brienne smiled at the memory of the pride’s grand entry.

_The day after Jon’s wedding_

Not long after House Stark, King Jon, Queen Arianne, and Daenerys left, House Lannister stormed down the hallway of the White Sword Tower. Loras poked his head out to investigate the noise, and turned back to the sworn brothers. “Uh oh! One half of the deadly duo is here. Run boys!”

Loras, Balon, Brynden, and even the Hound moved quickly from the room. The sworn brothers had all japed that they only needed to place Olenna and Genna before the Night King to win the war. As the sworn brothers ran into the hallway, they muttered pleasantries at the group moving towards Brienne’s room. Barristan had been holding Rhaella, and stood to return the young girl. “I should retire so I’m not tired during my shift on the morrow. Congratulations.” 

Before Barristan could hand Rhaella to Jaime, Genna entered the room with Tyrion, Myrcella, and Tommen at her back. “Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister! How dare you not come collect us immediately! I hear that half the bloody Keep has already seen my great-niece!”

Genna stormed towards Barristan; her eyes narrowed but her hands reached out for Rhaella. The newborn was handed over, but when Barristan moved to leave the room, Genna grabbed his arm. “Now you mean to run off!? We’re having a family moment, Selmy! Sit! You’re far more lion than cornstalk or whatever nonsense your House sigil is.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide and he began to protest, but Genna waved him off dismissively and walked towards a chair in the corner. “Oh! She’s gorgeous. A proper lioness. I need to start planning her first nameday celebration. We need minstrels and performers and pigeon pies and...”

“Lions and dragons and White Walkers!” Tyrion’s sarcastic excitement made Myrcella and Tommen laugh at his back. The younger brother squeezed Jaime’s arm as he moved towards Brienne and gave a firm hug. Genna reprimanded Tyrion for interrupting her thought process with his nonsense, but the younger man cared little.”

“So… what am I to call our newest Lannister? Tyriona, I hope.”

Jaime’s chest swelled with pride and his back straightened where he sat at the foot of the bed. “Rhaella.”

A knowing smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips and he nodded in reply. “A perfect name. Well, second to Tyriona. I can’t wait to spoil our newest lioness and teach her everything about our family history; from Lann the Clever all the way to his even more intelligent descendant, Tyrion the Wise.”

Brienne snorted, but Myrcella’s movement caught her eye. “Can I hold my… cousin.”

Myrcella’s eyes darted to Tommen briefly. The young boy was still young and not yet _informed_. With a warm smile, Genna nodded at the open seat to her side. “Come now, child. This little one seems to have your disposition. Tender and loving. She’ll adore you.”

The smile on Myrcella’s face warmed Brienne’s heart. She had been so pleased at the feast when Myrcella’s betrothal to Trystane was announced, and prouder yet when Jon defended her so staunchly. Misty eyes greeted Brienne as Myrcella looked to her. “I love her already. Someday, I’ll show her Dorne. She can visit whenever she likes, and I’ll get her the prettiest dresses.”

_Oh gods. Dresses. I hope Rhaella doesn’t have my frame._

Genna encouraged Tommen to take her seat so that he could see his young _cousin_. The boy smiled, but had far less interest in Rhaella than his cats. Brienne watched as Genna shuffled beside Barristan and leaned against him slightly. A satisfied smile spread across her face as she watched Myrcella, Tommen, and Rhaella together. Her lips moved slowly and the words were inaudible, but Brienne understood well-enough what she said. “Perfect.”

  
  


Not surprisingly, the last guest was Selwyn. Brienne’s father had no one who thought to inform him after Rhaella’s birth. After the Lannisters left, Tyrion had offered to retrieve the older lord. Brienne remembered fondly how Selwyn wept at the sight of his granddaughter. She knew why, though he would neve give it voice. 

After three broken betrothals, Selwyn had accepted that his line would die with him and Brienne. Now his family was growing, and Tarth had a new heir. With Jaime giving up his claim for the Rock, Selwyn held the future Evenstar in his massive arms. 

The memories faded as Brienne considered how much had changed in the past year since Rhaella’s birth. Rhaella had been an early walker and took her first steps at nine moons, much to Septa Aslen’s assumption that she would. The sworn brothers enjoyed the young tot’s eagerness and japed that Rhaella meant to make her way to the yards before she could lift a sword. Aside from the many changes in Rhaella, there were changes at the Keep.

Myrcella had left to live in Dorne with her betrothed, Trystane. It had been agreed that when Myrcella flowered, she and Trystane would wed. Until then, she would be cared for as though she was Prince Doran’s own. Having Myrcella living in Dorne had saddened Jaime, but he knew it was for the best. Myrcella was now thee-and-ten, and word arrived two moons ago that she had flowered.

The day Myrcella left, Briennne had watched as Jaime held Rhaella close and refused to put her down. It seemed as though he was trying to hold onto the innocence and youth of both daughters. Now, Myrcella’s wedding would be in a moon turn. Jon had given everyone in House Lannister leave to attend in Dorne, and Myrcella had written to say how excited she was to see everyone. 

There had been another change; a change that shocked everyone at the Red Keep. Arya Stark and Gendry Baratheon had fallen in love. Of course, Arya _refused_ to call it that. She merely shrugged and told her father one night, “I’m not a lady, but Gendry is shit at being a lord. He needs my help.”

At four-and-ten, Arya was betrothed to Gendry Baratheon. Ned was stunned more than anyone, but Catelyn seemed unsurprised, though saddened. Before a wedding could happen, Arya insisted on becoming a knight first. Both Arya and Gendry were natural fighters and more concerned with the dead than an overdone wedding. Given the situation the kingdoms were in, Jon, Ned, and Catelyn agreed it was best that the young couple wait until _after_.

In the meantime, Arya and Pod had become squires. Arya was assigned to Ser Balon. As a Stormlander, Ser Balon taught Arya about the kingdom so that when the time came, she could better support Gendry at Storm’s End. As for Pod, he wanted to squire for Brienne.

Brienne found the young boy’s attachment to her endearing. He was a kind boy and eager learner. While the sword did not come as naturally to him as others, he made up for it in dedication.

The last change concerned Tommen. At two-and-ten, Tommen had moved to Dragonstone with the newly married Lord and Lady Marbrand. Addam had promised Jaime that he would look after Tommen, and it was clear that the boy needed direction other than following Tyrion around all day. One thing that never changed with the passage of time was Tommen’s interest in animals. 

The young boy wished to learn all he could about the care of animals both large and small. He was very curious about the dragons, and sought to learn more from Daenerys. The dragons would not go near Tommen without Daenerys present, but the boy helped ensure they were fed well enough to not go destroying every farm in the Crownlands in search of food. Further, Tommen tended the horses, of which there were many among the Dothraki, and the sheep. He also had the opportunity to study the creatures of the ocean. 

A maester had been sent to Dragonstone to serve the House and instruct Tommen. The goal would be to send him to the Citadel when the time came. He would of course require a more well-rounded education to become a maester, but he intended to specialize in the treatment of animals. 

Perhaps the greatest change of all was the weather. A chill was beginning to reach the southernmost kingdoms which had not been felt in generations. Rarely used hearths were utilized from the Crownlands to Dorne. To Brienne, it was beginning to feel more like Winterfell than King’s Landing. 

Daenerys’ armies struggled the most to adapt to the change in temperature. The Dothraki were far more accustomed to the climate of the Dothraki Sea than the chill settling over Westeros. Seamstresses had worked around the clock to better outfit the warriors, and Daenerys was grateful for it. Even she had not been prepared for the cooler climate.

The night prior, hail reached King’s Landing. As the Kingsguard took supper together, they heard what sounded more like an attack on the city than a storm rolling through. When they rushed outside to investigate, it took only a few chunks of ice to the head to send them all back inside. 

Now as they prepared to train that morning, Brienne stared in wonder from the steps just past the doorway of the Keep. The entirety of King’s Landing woke up to a sea of ice coating the grounds. Collective puffs of breath pushed past the lips of the Kingsguard, Jon, Ned, and Catelyn as they stared in awe at the frozen landscape. 

Breaking the silence, Jaime grumbled. “Are we going to stand here staring all day, or are we going to train? It’s just a little ice.” Jaime tightened his sword belt that held Brightroar before stomping down the steps and towards the yards. 

Since recovering House Lannister’s ancestral sword, Jaime had returned the other half of Ice to Ned. The Stark patriarch had struggled with the changed grip and lighter weight, but he was in form well-enough to hold his own in the battle to come.

As Jaime stomped forward, Ned called out warningly. “I wouldn’t. That’s black ice you’re…”

Before Ned could finish, Jaime’s feet were out from under him. He landed on his back with a thud and a loud groan. The impact of Jaime’s back and head hitting the ground looked awful and Brienne winced at the sight. 

A bark of laughter pushed past Brynden’s lips as Jaime rolled dramatically. None of the Kingsguard were so foolish to attempt rescuing their sworn brother after witnessing how easily Jaime’s feet abandoned him. Instead, Barristan called out. “Come on, Jaime! Get up.”

“I can’t. I’m dead.” 

Barristan grumbled and slowly moved down the two steps before him. He slid along the sheet of ice that was the stonework of the terrace which descended towards the training yards. As he neared, Jaime sat upright and tried to stand; his eyes a bit hazy as he rubbed his head. 

No sooner than Barristan reached him did the older knight’s feet slip out from under him. Jaime tried to grab Barristan and hold him upright, but both fell in the process. Now with the Seven Kingdoms finest swordsmen moaning in pain, Brynden was lost in a fit of laughter. 

Brienne felt terribly for the pair before them, but she would not be so foolish as to go out there. They chose their path, and now they would need to save themselves.

Catelyn grumbled from Ned’s side as she watched Barristan and Jaime struggle to stand; their bodies sliding further backwards with each attempt to return to the Keep. “Wonderful. The best swordsmen we have to offer in the fight against the dead are two southerners who can’t keep their feet under them. Help them, Ned. It’s pathetic.”

Brienne glanced at Ned and Jon who looked far too amused at the scene playing out before them. They were of the North, and this weather hardly rattled them. The pair descended the steps slowly and made their way on steadier footing to aid the knights. 

At their approach, Jaime winced and grabbed his back. His eyes narrowed and his tone was a warning as Ned came near. “If you say ‘winter is coming’, I’ll kill you with your own sword.”

A faint smirk was at Ned’s lips when he grabbed Jaime’s shoulder and slowly pulled him towards the Keep. “I was going to say, winter is here.” 

In a proper fit befitting a flailing toddler, Jaime pushed Ned’s supporting hand away, but fell on his face in the process. Biting back a laugh, Brienne looked to the ground.

_Don’t laugh at your husband. Someone has to take pity. Our sworn brothers will not._

True to Brienne’s expectations, Balon, Brynden, Loras, and even the Hound were howling in laughter. Brynden shook his head and glanced at the younger knights. “Go help your sworn brothers. Their pride is wounded.” 

“Us!? Why don’t you go out there Blackfish.” Loras snorted and looked back at the scene before him. 

With a grunt, Catelyn descended the steps and stomped rather sure-footed towards Jamie. “Get up, Jaime! Stop rolling about like a child seeing his first ice.”

“Lions are made for the sun! This is shit. I don’t want it.”

Jon and Catelyn hauled Jaime to his feet; the young king struggling to withhold his laughter. “That’s my line, gooduncle. Come on. We’ll train in the afternoon. The sun should warm the grounds enough.”

Ned guided Barristan back towards the entryway. The older knight sat upon arrival and grabbed at his side. “How are we supposed to fight the dead on ice?”

The question seemed reasonable. In the North, the dead brought with them a swirl of snow and ice. In that climate however, there had already been snow on the ground. She wondered if snow would fall in King’s Landing, or if they would only get freezing rain that blanketed everything it touched in ice.”

Jon sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I climbed the Wall with the Wildings some years ago. They had cleats on their boots. Perhaps we should fashion something like that for our men as a precaution. The North already has snow on the ground, so this is rarely an issue.”

As Jon and Catelyn deposited Jaime beside Barristan, Ned spoke agreeingly. “Aye. We need something in case this happens when they arrive. What good will it do us to have the best in the kingdoms with Valyrian steel if they can’t stay on their feet.”

“I can stay on my feet just fine, thank you! I was merely practicing for the unlikely event of slipping in battle.” Jaime complained as he flopped to his back. His face was tight with pain as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ignoring Jaime’s protest, Catelyn nodded and looked to Jon. “I’ll speak with Gendry about fashioning something for their boots. The saddles for the dragons are nearly completed, so he should have time to consider something.”

The Starks, Jon, and the Kingsguard began to retreat inside while Barristan and Jaime remained on the ground. Brienne stared down at them expectantly. “Are you two coming?”

Both men groaned as though ready to meet the Stranger. Barristan waved at her dismissively. “We’re strategizing. Go on. We’ll be right there.”

* * *

True to Jon’s words, the afternoon sun warmed the grounds and enabled the Kingsguard to train. The pattern repeated for weeks with seemingly no end in sight. Storms rolled through bringing freezing rain. In the mornings, King’s Landing woke up to a sheet of ice. Catelyn and the small council worked with Gendry and the other smiths to fashion ice cleats to the soldiers' boots. The Kingsguard were the first to try them out; their expression uncertain as they stood in the same spot where Jaime learned the hard truth about northern temperatures. 

Brienne looked down at her feet and questioned if the cleats were truly enough to keep her upright. It was a strange sensation and would require adjusting her stance and form when fighting. Unlike the last time, Jaime seemed hesitant to be the first rushing forward towards the yards. 

Barristan’s eyes moved slowly to the Kingsguard as though questioning who would test out the cleats first. A small laugh bubbled in Brienne’s chest. 

_Barristan the Bold and my overconfident husband seem humbled. I suppose someone has to go first._

With a tentative step forward, Brienne moved towards the yards. The cleats worked surprisingly well and prevented her from falling. Glancing back, she saw Loras and Brynden moving forward next. 

“Come on. If Ser Mom, Ser Flowers, and Ser Fish can do this, the rest of you can.” Loras called out to the group without turning. The Hound and Balon looked questioningly at one another before grumbling and stepping forward. 

When Brienne arrived at the steps to descend towards the yards, she took pause. Barristan and Jaime clutched one another’s arms as though preparing for the pain to come. At their backs, Ned and Catelyn looked ready to keel over laughing as they tried not to mock the _very_ southern Kingsguard. 

_Perhaps we should have added some knights from the North. Surely having more than seven isn’t a bad thing._

Their group soon arrived at the yards and began to partner off. As usual, Brienne and Loras faced one another. They had opposite styles and enjoyed learning from one another. Balon and the Hound began sparring tentatively to the far left side of the yards while Brynden and Jon began to dance around one another.

To Brienne’s right, Barristan and Jaime began to exchange tentative blows. They were the best swordsmen in the kingdoms and it did little good to have them train with anyone else. Bran expressed the importance of Barristan and Jaime being in top form for the battle to come.

Barristan’s arm still troubled him; particularly in the colder weather. He was still incredibly skilled and strong, but he lost an edge with the decreased muscle tissue. The chill in the air often made the aged knight’s scarred forearm more bothersome. Brienne’s heart ached for Barristan as he tried to adjust his grip to lessen the pain. 

As everyone grew accustomed to the cleats at their feet, their sparring grew bolder and the usual skill exhibited in the yards returned. At the success of the cleats, Jon ordered the smiths to make as many as they could before the battle. The soldiers would need to be outfitted accordingly along with their dragonglass weapons. 

It seemed to Brienne that the only thing missing was the enemy. She wondered at how they would get past the Wall. Even the dead needed a path forward, and according to Bran, they could not swim. Her answer came a week later.

“The Wall is melting.” Bran’s words held an ominous edge as he spoke to those assembled. At his request, Jon had called together the small council and the Kingsguard. 

Tyrion leaned forward at the table; an incredulous expression on his face. “The Wall is melting? As in the 700 feet tall, 300 feet thick, Wall? The Wall in the North… where it is fucking freezing? The Wall where the Night King, who brings winter, is moving towards.”

All eyes turned back to Bran. Brienne couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation as well. If it was already this cold in the south, she struggled to understand how the North wasn’t permanently stilled from frost.

“It has always melted.” Bran smiled in a boyish fashion as he looked to Tyrion. “When the sun is out, it weeps. You were there. You should recall.”

“Aye, it’s true.” Jon spoke with a sigh and leaned onto the table. “It’s never been enough to question the integrity of it, but the sun does affect it.”

With a nod, Bran began to speak to the change taking place to the far north. “Over centuries, the Wall has only held because of magic. It never could have been erected that high and thick otherwise. When I passed south, the magic bond weakened or broke. I can’t tell which. The Three-Eyed-Raven was meant to stay in the north to hold the Wall. I don’t much understand it, but I see it more clearly now. It is weeping to the point of structural concern. The heat from Castle Black is quickening the melting process. The fires meant to keep the men warms and to cook are expediting the process at that site.”

A heavy silence fell over the room at Bran’s words. It was Tyrion who spoke again. “Still, the Wall is massive. It would take quite a long time to fall. A lifetime perhaps!”

Bran shook his head. “A raven is on the way here from Castle Black. It is to inform us of significant changes. As I said, the heat from the holding is expediting the Wall’s collapse that already began when I moved south. The Wall is too massive to hold without the magic bonds, and there are too many weakened points. They’ve already lost the top lookout posts, and the defenses built into the Wall facing the north have fallen. When they fell, they took with them massive sections of the Wall near Castle Black. If the tunnel collapses, it won’t take long before the dead can pass over what remains.”

There was not much to question after that. Jon called for the evacuation of the northernmost kingdoms. Plans had been made to send as many as possible to the islands, the West, the Reach, Dorne, and the Stormlands. Daenerys suggested a return to Slaver’s Bay to reclaim land for displaced Westerosi. Jon felt that could be a contingency plan should the living army fail to stop the dead. For now, Westeros would stand together.

With the cooler temperatures in the south, it would also be feasible to transport the wildfire safely to the middle of the Crownlands. The plan would be to place the wildfire in a line from the God’s Eye to Duskendale. They would leverage the dragons and wildfire to burn as many wights as they could before the Night King reached the city. 

As Bran had shared some moons ago, the Night King marched for him. If Bran fell, all the necessary knowledge required to beat the Night King would disappear with the passage of time, much like the fire magic of Valyria. The world would be overrun by death.

With the council concluded, Brienne and Jaime made their way back to the White Sword Tower in silence. There was now a path forward for the dead, and war would reach them in less time than they had hoped. Arriving at their room, the Septa informed them that Rhaella had just gone down for a nap. They moved inside their room and removed their armor and swords; a heavy silence still hanging over them.

Jaime glanced at Brienne with worried eyes. “I want you and Rhaella to flee to Essos if we can’t stop them with the wildfire.”

“What? No! I’ll not abandon you and everyone else I love to run from this fight. We’ll be fine.”

Brienne didn’t believe the words, but she wanted to. She had fought the dead before, but the memory of crossing blades with the White Walker was one that would never abandon her. The creature was massive and strong. It took both her and Barristan to take the creature down. That was only _one_ of the Night King’s generals. According to Bran, he had near thirty White Walkers and an army of 200,000 that would only grow as they moved south. 

They were uncertain if anything other than Valyrian steel could defeat the Night King and White Walkers. The wights fell easily enough; it was more the numbers that terrified the living. 

_The only way to find out is to try and set them ablaze. Hopefully they will fall to wildfire or dragonfire. Hopefully we can win this war without blades crossing._

Jaime closed the distance between them and cupped Brienne’s face. “I need to know that you and Rhaella will be alright.”

“We will all be fine. Rhaella will safely await our return for her on Tarth.”

Frustration shone in Jaime’s eyes, but he knew Brienne better than anyone. There would be no convincing her otherwise. His reply then was to lift on his toes and press his lips to Brienne’s. It felt as though the dead were already upon them and Jaime poured everything he felt into the kiss.

Desperate hands tore away clothing while their feet worked to toe off their boots. Before Brienne could stop him, Jaime had lifted her from the floor and dropped them onto the bed. His lips placed a trail of kisses down Brienne’s middle until he settled between her legs. 

A spark ignited in Brienne’s core and sent a fire blazing throughout her body. Jaime’s tongue and fingers hit every spot that cried out for attention. When she found release, Brienne barely had a moment to recover before Jaime was thrusting into her. 

There was a desperate need and intense passion to his movements. Brienne’s legs acted as an anchor to keep him grounded while he pumped into her. Their mouths swallowed moans of pleasure and desperate words. When Jaime spilled, Brienne sucked a deep breath and arched her back. 

Jaime collapsed on top of Brienne while their hearrates slowed and their breathing evened out. There was an unspoken fear in the way they held one another that night. Brienne wondered at how many moons they would have before death came for them. 

Eight moons later, there was a timeline. Bran’s trembling voice filled the hall as those assembled held their breath. “The Wall has fallen at Castle Black. The dead are marching south.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline wise - Jon became king in 300AC, Rhaella born around 302AC (21 months after Jon is crowned), the dead arrive in the next chapter around 304AC. This would be around the same time as S7/S8 (hard to tell since the time jumps on the show became ridiculous - particularly in S8).
> 
> Ages when the dead arrive (of the mains) - Jaime 38, Brienne 24, Rhaella 2, Barristan 67, Bran 14, Jon 21, Daenerys 20, Genna and Selwyn are both 59, Ned 41, Catelyn 40


	73. Barristan IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week before the dead are to arrive, final preparations are made.

Barristan stood in the courtyard to welcome the group from the West. It was only the second time in two years that Barristan had seen Genna. His mind wandered back to a year prior when Genna arrived for Rhaella’s first nameday celebration.

_ A year ago _

Barristan’s heart beat wildly as he stood beside Jaime in the courtyard. Little Rhaella was in Barristan’s arms and clung tightly to him. Barristan had made every effort to present himself well for Genna that day. His hair was freshly cut and combed; his face clean shaven. Underneath his Kingsguard armor, Barristan wore one of Genna’s gifted tunics, though she would not notice it. Barristan hoped it would help thaw their friendship which he missed dearly.

The lack of correspondence with Genna had hurt. He had written multiple times to apologize, but no reply came. Over the past two years, Barristan heard rumors of lords showing interest in the indomitable force that was Genna Lannister. Most were widowers and merely looking for companions, but Barristan didn’t think that any were good enough for Genna. The closest to a worthy match had been the mention of Ser Eldon of House Estermont. 

When the carriage door opened, an older lord stepped down and promptly turned to help Genna. Barristan felt his heart sink as the pair approached to greet Jaime. The younger knight grumbled at Barristan’s side. “Damon? She has to be japing.” 

Lord Damon Marbrand walked towards them tall and strong as ever. Addam’s father was a respected lord and military strategist like his son. The older lord had never remarried after his wife’s death, and Barristan was not surprised to see that a man of his caliber had Genna on his arm. 

After embracing Jaime, Genna turned towards Barristan and Rhaella. With eyes only for the young girl, Genna reached out and smiled. “My little Rhaella! Come to your great-aunt!”

With empty arms, Barristan bowed in greeting and began to speak. Before he could say much, Genna offered a polite smile and cut him off. “Yes, hello Ser Barristan.” Without another word, she entered the Keep with Lord Damon and her staff at her heels. 

A small feast was held with House Lannister, Lord Selwyn, and House Targaryen. Barristan wanted little to do with intruding on the family’s celebration, but Jaime insisted that he and the rest of the Kingsguard join. “You’re all as much her family as the others. Besides, the king will be there. Someone needs to keep an eye on Jon.”

Barristan’s only comfort was how Rhaella clung to him. The little girl had much family in the city, but the way she relied on Barristan always warmed his heart. Eventually, the girl grew tired and Barristan offered to bring her to bed. In truth, he wanted to get away from the feast. The sight of Damon in Genna’s ear and making her laugh loudly was painful to watch.

At one-year-old, Rhaella was a good sleeper. She went to bed easily enough, but that night, she whimpered every time Barristan set her down. “What’s wrong, sweetling? Too excited from your big day?”

Moving to the rocking chair by the window, Barristan held Rhaella close and tried to lull her to sleep. It took some time, but her breathing eventually grew even and she snored lightly on his chest. Afraid to wake her, Barristan sat a while longer and looked out the window.

Barristan wasn’t certain how much time passed, but he began to nod off with Rhaella in his arms. It wasn’t until he felt something being draped over him that Barristan startled. A blanket was being placed over Rhaella and him. Genna’s eyes met his and she spoke curtly. “You should have put her down.”

“I tried. She kept waking.”

The older woman huffed; her hands flying to her hips. “You and Jaime spoil her. She would hardly sit with anyone other than the pair of you tonight.”

Genna had already taken away their friendship, and now she seemed determined to take away his Rhaella. Unbidden, Lord Edric’s words spoken in private nearly one year ago came to mind.  _ ‘The red priestess said one final thing. When death comes, take them to the boat; the babe you treasure and the woman you love.’ _

“Apologies. Again.” Standing from the chair, Barristan placed the blanket on it and moved towards the crib. The one-year-old remained asleep that time when set down. He moved from the room, but Genna followed close at his heels.

Before he could turn towards his room, Genna grabbed his arm. “Tell me why you did it.”

With a shrug, Barristan sighed. “She kept crying. I don’t like seeing her upset, so I kept picking her up.”

Genna rolled her eyes and huffed. “Not that! Leyton.”

“I told you. He wasn’t right for you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It wasn’t a jape.”

Raising a brow, Genna spoke challengingly. “And Lord Damon? What do you think of him.”

“He’s… a good man.”  _ Worthy of you. _

Genna hummed and crossed her arms. “You would wish to see me wed him then?”

Barristan could not bring himself to lie. “I would wish to see you happy.”

  
  


As the memory of that night faded away, Barristan braced himself for Genna’s arrival. He had not heard of a betrothal between Genna and Damon, but at their age, an announcement was unlikely to come. Unless a match was made for the purpose of continuing a line, court cared little to gossip about it. It did strike Barristan odd that neither Jaime nor Tyrion mentioned the older couple. 

When the carriage stopped in the courtyard, Barristan watched as Kevan stepped out and turned around to help his sister down. To Barristan’s surprise, Genna was alone. Jaime and Tyrion stood at Barristan’s side and snickered at their uncle’s scowling face. 

Tyrion spoke in hushed tones for Jaime’s and Barristan’s ears only. “Poor uncle Kevan. He likely got an earful the entire way.”

Kevan and Daven would lead the West’s contingent in battle as Tyrion would be on Tarth, and Jaime in the godswood. Joy Hill had been left to oversee things at the Rock as the westernmost points of the kingdom were to serve as shelter for many fleeing the path of the dead. 

Genna embraced her nephews and smiled at each of them. “You two look well! I trust you’ve both been on your best behavior.” 

With a most Lannister smirk, Tyrion rocked on his feet and hummed. “We are nothing if not well-behaved.”

Genna grumbled before glancing at Barristan. “Ser Barristan. Hello.”

The group made their way inside and castle staff ensured they were situated comfortably in the guest wing. On the morrow, the last group would leave for Tarth. The dead were a week out and the ship would take the small council, Rhaella, Genna, Catelyn, and all remaining children to Tarth.

That night, Barristan lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He wondered how he was meant to follow instruction of the red priestess and see Genna and Rhaella safely to the docks if the former despised him. Further, Barristan wondered at why  _ he  _ needed to bring them there. Barristan was not one to speak from the heart, so he couldn’t imagine some tearful goodbye with love confessions before the dead came. 

_ Perhaps I am to die in this war and it is a goodbye. At least Rhaella will miss me, though she’ll likely forget me as she grows. _

Barristan eventually drifted off to sleep. His sleep was dreamless until tiny footsteps roused him. Through bleary eyes, Barristan smiled at the hazy figure of Rhaella wandering into the room with her stuffed lion in hand. Reaching down, Barristan pulled the tot onto the bed before placing the covers over her.

Judging by the light in the room, it would not be dawn for a few hours. Barristan yawned and laid on his back as a small head came to rest on his shoulder. Since Rhaella was old enough to walk, the young girl would wander into Barristan’s room or her parents room in the middle of the night. 

No one knew how she decided upon a direction each night, but her feet carried her only to those rooms. At first, it had startled Barristan when he awoke to a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him and whispering,  _ “Grandpa Barri.” _

Now the act of pulling the young tot onto the bed seemed as second nature as donning his armor. Jaime and Brienne had tried all manner of tricks to get Rhaella to stay in bed. The young girl was a climber, and a crib was of little use. They tried putting up a makeshift gate at her door, but the girl found a way past that obstacle as well. 

Barristan didn’t mind. That Rhaella felt trusting enough to look for him when in need of comfort warmed his heart. Now as Barristan tried to find sleep once more, he felt Rhaella sit upright in bed. Her right hand clutched her stuffed lion close and her left palm pressed warm onto his chest.

“Grandpa Barri.” 

“Hm. What is it, sweetling?” Barristan’s hand dragged down his face as he tried to rub away the sleep-blurred vision from his eyes.

“I cold.”

The young girl’s words were limited, but she always got her point across. Glancing towards the window, Barristan saw that it was closed. The fire had nearly gone out, but the heat from the embers kept the room warm enough.

“Just lay down under the covers. You’ll warm up.”

Rhaella hesitated and stared down at him. She clutched the lion tighter and shook her head. “There. Cold.” A small finger pointed towards the hallway from where she came. 

Sitting upright, Barristan glanced towards the open door. He imagined a window had been left ajar in the hall or her room. Picking Rhaella up, Barristan went to investigate. The hall was warm, and there was no open window to be found. He walked down two doors to Rhaella’s room which was next to Jaime’s and Brienne’s. 

It only took nearing Rhaella’s room for Barristan to feel the chill. He stepped inside and saw the open window at the opposite end. As he approached it, Barristan’s breath led the way. King’s Landing had been cold of late, but this chill felt unnatural. 

Closing the window, Barristan peered outside. In the distance, a massive snowsquall headed for the city. His eyes went wide and he pressed his face closer against the glass. Something about the approaching snow reminded Barristan of the fight with the dead beyond the Wall. 

Backing away slowly, Barristan moved quickly from the room. He considered waking up Brienne or Loras to get their opinion. 

_ Perhaps Lord Bran. I’m certain that boy has seen something.  _

As Barristan moved from the room, he moved to the next door and prepared to knock, but then the bells rang out in the city.

_ One _ . 

Silence. 

_ Two _ . 

Silence.

_ Three _ .

_ This can’t be. Lord Bran said we had more time.  _

Barristan’s blood ran cold at the sound. He recalled the expressions on the faces of the brothers of the Night’s Watch as they stood during supper and waited. Waited to count the horns. Barristan now understood that dread in a way he would rather not. 

As his fist raised to knock, the door flew open. Jaime stood half awake dressed in only his breeches. Behind him, Brienne frantically threw on her armor.

“Three bells. Did we hear that correctly?” Jaime reached out for Rhaella; his eyes wide with worry as the young tot reached for his arms. 

“Three. A snowsquall approaches from the north.”

Jaime nodded in understanding and glanced back at Brienne. They had not planned for this early of a confrontation with the dead. No one had. 

With Genna only just having arrived the day prior, there was no time for the last boat to sail to Tarth with the small council, Rickon, Arya, Sansa, Tommen, Pod, Rhaella, and other small children of soldiers. The group planned to depart on the morrow for the island, but now, death was upon them.

Barristan grabbed Jaime’s arm and he spoke in a commanding tone. “Suit up and I’ll return for Rhaella. I’ll get her, the council, and the rest to the boat.”

Without awaiting a reply, Barristan moved quickly to his room. He prepared for war; a war that could likely be his final battle. Strapping Blackfyre to his hip, Barristan moved back down the hallway. The other brothers were gathering in the hall as well; their faces weary and confused.

Kingsguard were light sleepers. Brienne had once japed that the only thing that disturbed her rest as much as motherhood was knighthood. Everything was heightened, even in rest. Every sound. Every scent. Every sensation. 

With everyone in the hall, Brienne held Rhaella close. Dark Sister was at her hip as she rubbed Rhaella’s back. The young girl was already asleep in Brienne’s arms, but she would soon awake when the chill hit her skin. Jaime was the last to emerge in his armor and with Brightroar at his hip. 

All Kingsguard carried dragonglass weapons into battle along with their owned or borrowed Valyrian steel. Jaime wrapped a blanket around Rhaella as the Kingsguard moved wordlessly through the halls and towards the throne room.

Brynden had guard duty that night, and had likely already escorted Jon there. The group had agreed to assemble in the throne room whenever the time came to face death. 

Barristan considered the plan laid out by the living. They had planned to pass over the crownlands in two days to set the dead ablaze in wildfire. Now Barristan wondered if they missed the opportunity. The dead were meant to be a week away; not hours. 

As the Kingsguard moved quietly into the throne room, Barristan’s eyes settled on all residents of the Keep huddled close around Bran. The young boy’s eyes were rolled back in his head, and everyone appeared to be holding a collective breath. 

From the Keep, Barristan could hear battle preparations from the city below. Their combined forces of nearly 200,000 prepared for war; Westerosi, including Free Folk, stood alongside Unsullied, Second Sons, and Dothraki. The dragons could be heard circling the Keep above. It was a sound that once unnerved Barristan, but now gave him comfort. 

_ Those wretched things are our chance at life.  _

As the Kingsguard reached the group, Genna ran towards Jaime and Brienne. “Gods! This is no good. We were meant to leave on the morrow.”

Barristan could see the fear in the young parents’ eyes, but they held their chins up in reply. When Jaime responded, he sounded more knight than father. “We’ll get you out. It will be fine.”

For what felt an eternity, the group stared at Bran. Barristan felt as though he couldn’t breathe. His armor seemed heavier than usual and his arms limp. When at last the young boy’s eyes rolled forward, he gasped. 

“They’re a scouting group. Roughly 20,000, but not the 300,000 that I’ve been tracking. They came from somewhere else. Somewhere not with the main group.” Bran’s eyes darted towards the Kingsguard; worry on his face. 

“They’re Westerosi. I recognize sigils on some of the dead’s tattered clothing. They’re of the Crownlands and Riverlands. He…he raised dragons.”

Barristan’s legs swayed at the words. Stepping forward slowly, Daenerys crouched before Bran. “I thought he could only raise corpses. How could he have dragons when they are naught but skulls beneath the Keep?”

Bran swallowed thickly before taking a deep breath. “He has one from the Battle Beneath the God’s Eye, and two from The Battle Above the God’s Eye. All three are ridden by dead Targaryen princes. In the Battle Beneath the God’s Eye, Prince Aegon and Quicksilver were killed by King Maegor and Balerion. Their bodies fell and skidded into the southernmost edge of the God’s Eye. In the Battle Above the God’s Eye, Vhagar and Caraxes dueled with Prince Aemond and Prince Daemon on their backs. All four died in the battle and plummeted to the lake. The dragons were so large, that their bodies sent a tidal wave at Harrenhal. Caraxes somehow crawled to shore, but died thereafter. The villagers… they said the stink was awful from the rotting dragon corpse. They didn’t know what to do with the body, so they pushed it backwards to fully submerge it in the God’s Eye. The crown demanded Vhagar’s corpse recovered from the waters. It still had Aemond attached in his saddle with Dark Sister through his eye. They took the sword and Vhagar’s skull before shoving the rest back into the lake. I don’t know how, but… the water preserved the bodies. I saw it. Something about the God’s Eye; a magic perhaps?”

The information made little sense. Barristan questioned Bran as he glanced around the room at those assembled. “A headless dragon? Well surely it can’t do much damage?”

Bran shook his head as fear danced in his eyes. “They took the dragon’s skull above its fire sack. I saw it. It’s… it’s spewing fire aimlessly. Blue fire. All of them.”

_ Seven help us. Three dead dragons and three living dragons. Three dead riders and three living riders. I don’t care for where this is going.  _

Jon’s voice was uneasy as it filled the throne room. “We have to kill them before they reach the city. If we don’t, they’ll kill everyone here.”

“If I go alone, will Drogon and Rhaegal follow into battle without a rider?” Brienne’s voice was small as she stared at Bran. 

Both Barristan and Jaime spoke at the same time. “What!?”

Brienne took a deep breath and shook her head. “If the dragons will follow, there is no sense in all of us going.”

Jon and Brienne began to bicker, but Bran’s steady voice called out. “They will follow. Across the Narrow Sea, they followed Drogon into battle with only Daenerys to lead.”

Daenerys startled at Bran’s words. “How did you…”

Before Daenerys could finish her question, Bran continued. “It’s more dangerous for the dragons without riders. They don’t see ground threats as well, but the scouting group consists entirely of wights and one White Walker. There are no giants or ice spiders, nor is the Night King with them. I’ve seen him fight with an ice spear, and his accuracy could be problematic when the time comes. It should be safe.”

“I’ll not leave my sister. I’m going too.” Daenerys stood and met Brienne’s eyes. “I don’t know how to fight like you, but I can ride and I know my children. Jon should stay here. He is king and needs to stay safe for the army to keep hope.”

Bran glanced between the women and nodded slowly. “Take out Caraxes and Quicksilver first. Without a head, Vhagar is little more than a flaming object barreling at you. The others can bite and see their target to aid use of their talons.”

Barristan glanced at Brienne. He knew it was madness, but they had little option. It made little sense to send all three Targryens towards death, but Barristan hated the idea. As a Kingsguard, it made sense to send Brienne. She was sworn to protect Jon and the realm. As a young woman he cared deeply for, it frightened Barristan.

Jaime looked sick with worry, but there was no stopping Brienne when she was in a mood such as this. “I’m coming too. I’ll fly with you.”

Thankfully, Barristan wasn’t the only person to think the idea absurd. A chorus of voices began to protest, but it was Brienne who silenced Jaime’s stubborn insistence. “If something happens to me, Rhaella needs you! I need you to stay here. There is no time to argue this. We must leave now!”

Jaime grunted in frustration, but there was little he could do. The feeling was shared, and Barristan felt for Jaime’s plight. The Kingsguard moved quickly towards the courtyard with Daenerys and Jon. Jon complained the entire way about not going with his aunts, but they cared little.

“It’s not proper to argue with your aunts,  _ nephew _ . The men need you to give the orders.” Brienne held Rhaella close as she moved. As they reached the door which would take them to the courtyard, Brienne squeezed Rhaella and kissed her head before passing her to Jaime. 

Shaking his head, Jaime tried once more to go, but Brienne silenced him with a kiss. “I have to go kill some dragons and then I’m going to shove Dark Sister through Prince Aemond’s head a second time. Get Rhaella to the boats. We’ll be back soon.” 

As Brienne turned to leave, Jaime reached out and grabbed her hand. “Wait.”

Shifting Rhaella slightly in his arms, Jaime removed something from around his neck. There was a small pouch at the end of a rope which was used as a necklace. Barristan knew what it was immediately.

_ Gods. That bloody coin. They really should just melt that thing down into a proper pendant.  _

With whispered words and kisses, Brienne soon moved away to join Daenerys outside. The panic in Jaime’s eyes saddened Barristan. It was because of Jaime that Barristan understood all too well the fear at the prospect of losing loved ones. 

As the Targaryen women left the Keep, Jaime turned back towards the throne room with a frightened Rhaella in his arms. She had awoken after Brienne handed her to Jaime, and the blanket over her body was doing little to keep away the chill in the Keep.

They moved quickly towards the small group preparing to depart for the docks. Even though the bulk of the Night King’s army was still a week out, it was best that they leave now. Bran had already missed one scouting group, and Jon feared another. 

Genna rushed to Jaime’s side; her eyes determined and resolute. “Give her here, Jaime. I’ll take her to Tarth with Tyrion.”

Jaime, Barristan, the rest of the Kingsguard, and the living army would need to ride out to face the 20,000 dead things marching towards the city. When the Targaryens moved to the skies, Ned had moved into the city to alert the officers of the living’s army. They would meet outside the gates and face the dead head on.

Barristan could see the uncertainty on Jaime’s face. It was clear that he and Brienne had not prepared emotionally for the departure. Moving to Jaime’s side, Barristan spoke sternly. Barristan feared that Jaime would wish to ride the young girl to the docks and spend the hours watching the ship sail east until out of view. If he didn’t die of chill, Jaime might die of a broken heart. Further, Barristan recalled Lord Edric’s words.

“Give her here. I’ll escort the group to the docks. You lead the Kingsguard to the gates with Ned. I’ll be there shortly.”

The words only made Jaime hold tighter to Rhaella. He bit his lip and squeezed the young girl, but Barristan reached out and broke his grasp. “They need to go now! What if those dead dragons torch the city!”

At the reminder that the threat was far more than 20,000 wights, Jaime let go. Barristan pulled Rhaella close to his chest and placed a comforting hand to Jaime’s shoulder. “She’ll be with your aunt, your brother, and the Starks. It’s fine.”

_ A lie. This is not fine. There is nothing fine about this. _

Jaime nodded in understanding, but his eyes misted and his resolve wavered. Looking towards the small council, Barristan spoke to Genna without meeting her eyes. “We need to leave quickly.”

Genna moved towards the group and spoke in urgent tones that guided them towards the courtyard. Moving at their back with Rhaella tucked safely into his arms, Barristan spoke to Jaime. “Lord Stark will be at the Dragon Gate. Our king insists on fighting; stay close to him. I’ll meet you there before the threat reaches us. By the gods, don’t put Sandor near the archers! He’ll panic at the first sight of their flaming arrows.”

It was the one weakness in his sworn brothers that made Barristan take pause. He needed the Hound emotionally present for the battles to come, but there would be fire. A lot of fire.

Jaime nodded numbly as they walked into the courtyard. The rest of the Kingsguard was preparing the horses and helping council members onto them. The group began to set out for the docks where they would meet any remaining wives and children who had also planned to leave on the morrow.

Grabbing Jaime’s arm before he walked off, Barristan met his eyes. “I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything foolish!”

Barristan feared Jaime charging ahead. In matters of war, Jaime was more selfless than anyone Barristan had encountered in all his years. The younger knight engaged the enemy as though his own life mattered little. Jaime’s only goal often seemed to be killing the opposition, even if it meant his own demise. 

At Barristan’s words, Jaime’s eyes lowered to Rhaella and he nodded once more. With a final kiss to her head, Jaime moved towards his horse to meet Ned at the gates. When Balon brought Barristan a horse, the Stormlands knight reached out for Rhaella so that Barristan could mount the destrier. 

Barristan’s breath puffed out before him as he mounted and reached down for the young girl. The fear in Rhaella’s eyes saddened Barristan. Many children would be separated from their loved ones that night with fear instead of love to send them off. 

Tucking Rhaella close, Barristan tried to offer her reassuring words. “You’re going to visit grandpa’s island, sweetling.”

The horse snorted and shook its head at the shifting weight on its back. With a slight kick to urge the horse forward, Barristan felt a small hand reach up for his chin. “You island.”

“No, your grandpa. Grandpa Selwyn.” Barristan laughed lightly as they moved towards the docks. The young girl saw her Grandpa Selwyn often enough; the older lord making ample visits to the mainland to see his pride and joy. Still, Rhaella called them both grandpa. A part of Barristan felt guilt at the fact, but a more selfish part of him enjoyed it. 

The ride to the docks seemed to stretch on forever. In the time they rode, it seemed as though the temperature dropped to even more unbearable levels. When they arrived, the wives and children had already amassed. A crowd of around 200 waited patiently for the rowboats to take them to the ship.

On account of the weather, the ship had to be anchored just off the docks. The water near the shore had started to freeze, and Yara feared damage to the ship. The dock stretched out far into the darkness with small boats lined up along each side. At the dock’s edge, Yara moved swiftly to load the boats efficiently and quickly. She had made an incredible Master of Ships in the past four years, and Barristan thought her a strong member of Jons’ council. 

As Barristan stood with Rhaella in his arms, he felt a presence at his side. Glancing down, Barristan saw Genna step close. “The bloody North seems to have relocated south! Absurd.”

A small smile tugged at Barristan’s lips. He was happy that she and her group made it to the Keep safely before madness descended upon them. Despite her scowl, Genna’s face softened when she met Barristan’s eyes. 

“I know that I needn’t say it…” Genna’s brows raised as she spoke.

With a grumble, Barristan rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep him safe. Brienne too.”

Genna nodded in reply. She swallowed thickly and glanced away before speaking once more. “And yourself. Don’t do anything so foolish and self-sacrificing as you’re quick to do.”

Barristan began to protest as he held Rhaella close, but Genna’s hand reached up to grip his chin tightly. Any protest died on his lips as she narrowed her eyes. “Please.”

With a small nod, Barristan’s eyes darted away. He never knew what to make of Genna’s more sincere moments. Even with two years of limited words between them, Genna spoke as though she cared. Glancing ahead, Barristan huffed at how many were still left to board the small boats. 

Then Barristan heard something in the distance. At first, Barristan thought it was a dragon. When the sound reached his ears once more, Barristan realized the sound was nothing like a living dragon. It sounded  _ different _ . 

Heads turned towards the sky and eyes went wide in horror. Something was flying towards with a blue flame pouring from its mouth. Barristan realized in horror that an undead dragon was cutting a path straight through the army outside the gates and towards the city. Panic erupted at the docks and people began shoving forward. Yara tried to maintain order, but it was a lost cause. 

Genna’s hands grabbed at Barristan’s arm as he considered what to do. Looking down the docks, Barristan saw several smaller ships that could take people to the ship faster. 

With the small council and Stark children standing before him, Barristan yelled to them. “Follow me! Quickly!”

Barristan grabbed Genna’s hand and pulled her forward as he held Rhaella close. The young girl began to cry and clutch his neck tighter as the dragon closed in. Willing his legs to move faster, Barristan glanced back to ensure the Stark children and council members had followed. 

In the distance, Barristan saw Yara desperately trying to load more of the small boats. She began directing some people to follow Barristan who could not be accommodated immediately. With wild eyes, Barristan appraised the three ships docked in the distance at the easternmost edge of the port. He prayed to the seven that the ice had not made it impossible for the small vessels to push back and towards the ship.

Barristan spotted Tyrion struggling to keep up and he shouted over his shoulder at the younger Lannister. “Lord Tyrion! Can you sail a small vessel?”  _ Gods. Please say yes. _

The younger Lannister raised a brow and huffed. “We’ll find out soon enough!”

Catelyn was struggling to carry Rickon on her back, but she called ahead to Barristan. “Ser Davos is here! He’ll take us to the ship.”

Barristan strained to see behind Catelyn in the darkness. The outline of the Onion Knight came into view and a wave of relief washed over Barristan. He recalled that Davos had agreed to aid Yara with getting the last wave of citizens to the ship on the morrow.

When at last they reached the easternmost most pier, Barristan noticed that the first boat was frozen in place, but the other two could push back with some effort. At the back of the small council, roughly 50 women and children were following. With only two of three boats available, it struck Barristan that not everyone could be accommodated. 

Holding Rhaella close, Barristan began directing the council onto the first boat. To his right, Genna began urging people onto the second boat. The boats began to load quickly as Davos stepped onto the vessel that Barristan stood before. 

A loud cry from the skies caught Barristan’s attention. The dragon was headed towards the docks as blue flame poured from his mouth. An overwhelming fear for everyone’s safety spread through Barristan. Looking to Tyrion on the boat, Barristan yelled to the younger Lannister. 

“Lord Tyrion! Take Rhaella!”

Tyrion ran to the railing and reached across for Rhealla. As Barristan tried to pass the young girl to him, she screamed and clutched at Barristan’s neck. “No! Grandpa Barri!”

The girl’s fear broke Barristan’s heart, but she needed to go immediately. “Please, sweetling. Go with Uncle Tyrion.”

Tyrion’s hands wrapped around Rhaella’s waist and pulled her onto the boat. With the first ship loaded, Barristan moved to untie the vessel from the piling. He unsheathed Blackfyre and used the hilt to crack some of the ice between the dock and the boat. With a hard shove, the boat slowly moved away from the dock.

Rhaella screamed and flailed in Tyrion’s arms. “Grandpa Barri! I want grandpa!”

Barristan’s jaw clenched as his heart shattered. He watched for a moment as the boat moved towards the larger ship in the distance. “It’s alright, Rhaella. I’ll see you soon!”

To Barristan’s right, Genna’s voice cut through the night air. “Hurry! Onto the boat, now!”

Urging more people onto the boat, Genna began to untie the rope keeping the vessel to the dock.  _ Stubborn woman! What is she doing!? _

“Genna! Get on the boat!” Barristan ran to Genna and pulled her upright from where she crouched at the piling with the rope in hand. “Now!”

“I’m fine! We can get a few more on! There are children here!”

Barristan’s eyes darted to roughly 15 remaining. Desperate mothers with young babes in their arms crowded forward.  _ Gods. They’ll not fit.  _

Glancing around, Barristan spotted a rowboat on the shore. Before he could do anything about it, the dragon was approaching. Cutting through the westernmost docks, blue fire poured down and lit up the area. From where he stood, Barristan could see Yara jump into the sea to avoid the flames. A handful of people had not made it onto boats before the dragon’s fiery breath cut through. 

Grabbing Genna’s hand, Barristan tugged her away and yelled at the others to follow. On the way, Barristan grabbed a small frozen in fear and staring at the dragon. 

The run to the end of the dock seemed to stretch on forever. Frantically, Barristan appraised the shore. He noted an alcove along the stonewall that ran the length of the port and shoreline towards Aegon’s Hill. Genna slowed at his back and let go of his hand. Turning around, Barristan saw her leaning down to pick up a child that had fallen. Putting down the boy in his arms, Barristan yelled at the boy to run to the wall just ahead. 

Barristan turned around and ran back to Genna. Loud eruptions and an intense heat signaled the dragon’s arrival just one pier away. Lifting Genna and the child, Barristan ran towards the end of the dock. Diving forward with Genna and the small child in his arms, they just missed the dragon’s fire as the dock was destroyed behind them. 

Blue flames engulfed the dock at his back as the dragon passed overhead. Guiding the group towards the alcove, Barristan watched as the undead dragon began to turn around to cut a path back over the city.  _ Oh gods. Please don’t aim for the ship. _

The two vessels they had pushed back from the dock and the other boats from Yara’s pier were filled to capacity and making their way towards the anchored ship. At the dock’s destruction, waves pushed violently at the back of the small vessels. Barristan held his breath as the dragon circled around in the night sky. 

Then a fast moving object from the east came into view. With a loud cry, a living dragon was in pursuit of the dead dragon. With his eyes still to the sky, Barristan felt Genna grip his hand. “It’s Brienne!”

As soon as Genna spoke the words, Barristan saw Viserion engage the undead dragon. The glint of Dark Sister caught the flames from each dragon as Brienne stood upright in the saddle with her arm raised high. The dragons came together above the water. Shrill cries from both creatures filled the air as the dragons locked jaws and talons reached out to shred at the other. 

The dragons began to descend as they fought. They were roughly twenty feet over the water and still lowering. Then Brienne began to move forward. Barristan’s eyes went wide as he saw Brienne moving slowly to the top of Viserion’s head.  _ What is she doing!? _

As Viserion’s head thrashed and pulled downwards on the undead dragon’s head, Brienne leapt into the air. Her sword came down onto the wight on the undead dragon’s back. At the impact, she slipped off the side of the undead dragon, but she gripped the saddle where the wight had been seated. Hanging precariously as the two dragons continued to fight, Brienne thrust Dark Sister into the undead dragon’s belly. The effort killed the creature and sent it falling into the Blackwater. 

Barristan felt his heart stop as Brienne fell roughly 15 feet into the sea with the dragon falling beside her. Moving away from the alcove and to the shoreline, Barristan strained to see into the darkness. The ship and smaller vessels were intact, and all refugees safe. Then Barristan saw a mop of blonde hair burst from the water’s surface. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight and screamed towards Brienne.

“Brienne! Brienne, are you alright!?”

The distance was far, but for an islander, swimmable. Barristan worried more about the arctic temperature of the water than how far she had to go. Ice had formed along the shore’s edge and stretched out roughly ten feet. Because of the undead dragon’s destruction of the docks, chunks of ice had broken away and began to drift into the bay. 

Standing at the shore’s edge, Barristan watched Brienne approach. She was winded, but called out in the darkness. “Bloody cold!”

Viserion circled the skies and touched down not far from Barristan and the group at his back. The women and children screamed in fear, but to Barristan, there had never been a greater sight. When at least Brienne neared the shore, she struggled over the blocks of ice. Barristan reached out to her and guided her onto solid ground.

Falling to the ground, Brienne struggled to catch her breath as she shivered violently. Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “Do you have... any idea… how hard… it is to sheath a sword… while in water… and swimming.”

Barristan knew that he needed to get her armor and the outermost layers off quickly. Before he could ask for aid, Genna and a few of the women ran forward. The women offered their cloaks to the soaking wet Kingsguard and tried to dry off her hair and body as armor and mail were pulled off her shoulders and chest. 

Down to only her tunic, breeches, and boots, the women wrapped her tightly in their cloaks. Mumbling her thanks, Brienne glanced up at Barristan. “I need to go back.”

“What!? You’ll die of cold!”

Genna began to scold Brienne with similar words, but Brienne only shook her head and took a deep breath. “Daenerys needs help. There is one left, but the headless one is gone. It set off a section of the ground soaked with wildfire and its body was consumed by the flames; dragon and rider. Dragonfire alone wasn’t enough.”

_ Seven hells.  _

Barristan grumbled in protest, but he knew that it had to be done. Without Brienne to command Viserion back into battle, the beast made no attempt to move. Straightening to full height, Brienne shivered slightly and clutched at the cloaks wrapped around her. With a nod of the head, Brienne glanced at Barristan. “Do you need a ride?”


	74. Jaime XXX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial battle with the small group of wights ends. Bran shares what he sees.

Viserion touched down on the ground with two riders. Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of an armorless Brienne wrapped in cloaks and Barristan at her back. Not long ago, the army of the living watched as two dragons flew overhead. The first, an undead dragon, had cut through the left flank and killed at least one-quarter of their army. 

As living men began to flee in fear, Jaime and Jon had screamed down the lines to hold their ground. It wasn’t long after that the living dragon came soaring through the air. Given the size of the dragon, Jaime knew it was Brienne.

The living army turned to watch the battle over the Blackwater. An intense fear threatened to bring Jaime to his knees at the thought of harm befalling Rhaella or Brienne. 

When she returned reasonably calm and with Barristan at her back, Jaime felt a wave of relief. The Lord Commander marched forward to stand between Jaime and Jon. Barristan nodded at Jaime and spoke in clipped words. “Rhaella is fine. On the way toTarth.” 

The rest of the Kingsguard stretched out to the right and left; even the Hound held strong after the undead dragon’s fiery pass over. 

In the distance, something approached that did not sound human or animal. The sound was shrill and filled the air around the living. An otherworldly battle cry filled the night air. Jaime sucked in a sharp breath and raised his sword high. He thought of Brienne and Rhaella. He thought of Tyrion and Genna. He thought of the sworn brothers at his side, and the man he had spent the past twenty years fighting with, Barristan. 

As the sound of dead things came closer and a foul smell filled the air, Jaime took a deep breath. A pair of beautiful blue eyes calmed his nerves and guided his sword as the first wave of creatures began to pile over them.

Jaime didn’t know how many moved against them, but it felt much more than 20,000. The wights fought chaotically with little strategy or skill. Fingernails reached out to claw and shred anything before them. Teeth sought living skin as though worms in Valyria. Old, rusty weapons tried to find muscle tissue and vital organs. 

More overwhelming than the energy of the dead was the smell. The creatures stunk of decay and the excrement they made in their original moment of death. Unintelligible sounds escaped their rotten mouths as they opened their jaws and tried to bite into Jaime’s flesh.

After the initial impact, the living began to push back. Their cleats gripped the icy field and helped them push back against the wall of death pressing against them. 

The dragonglass steel and Varlyrian steel felled the dead easily enough. Even having lost one-quarter of their army, the living easily outnumbered the dead despite feeling overwhelmed. The volume of dead pushing against Jaime was suffocating. He surmised that they had been hit with the middle columns rather than a flank.

_Do they even have battle formations? Mayhap it feels this overwhelming and chaotic no matter where the men stand._

For over an hour, the living pushed back against the dead. Jaime’s eyes darted left and right as he tried to find their target; the White Walker. 

_‘Kill the White Walker and you’ll kill the contingent.’_

Barristan was a constant presence at Jaime’s right. The older knight went kill for kill with Jaime. Both were determined to find the White Walker and end the battle quickly. Then, they reached the creature.

To Jaime’s left and well out of reach was a massive, pale creature. His deathly blue eyes and ferocious swings of the blade sent a chill down Jaime’s spine. From the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Loras rush forward. 

Loras was a skilled knight and far stronger than most bearing the title. Despite that, he only had a dragonglass sword and the living were uncertain if it could kill a White Walker as it could a wight. With Jon in the battle, Balon couldn’t use Longclaw. 

Loras offered Heartsband to his comrade and insisted that he could manage without Valyrian steel that night. Within a heartbeat, Jaime found out how dragonglass held up against White Walkers. 

While turning to engage Loras, the White Walker’s ice spear swung out to meet Loras’s sword. The dragonglass blade shattered in Loras’s hand and on the creature’s follow through, the hilt of his spear crashed into Loras’ armor. 

Loras went flying backwards ten feet like a ragdoll. The young knight’s armor caved in at the impact from the hilt of the White Walker’s ice spear. Stalking forward with a deadly glare, the White Walker stood over Loras, poised to land a killing blow. 

Before the creature could slice through Loras, Jaime and Balon charged forward. Balon blocked the creature’s blow, but took a hard kick to the knee from the White Walker. As he cried out in pain, Jaime engaged the White Walker. They exchanged blows, but Jaime was too fast. Brightroar ended the creature as Jaime thrust the blade into the creature’s chest.

Any remaining wights fell when the White Walker shattered. It was an introduction to the dead, but not the true test. Jaime steadied his breathing and moved towards Loras. Falling to his knees, Jaime appraised the dazed Kingsguard. A small smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. 

“You flowers are such delicate things. Taken down by a small winter breeze.”

Loras snorted, but the act hurt his chest and he winced. “I want the Valyrian steel in the next battle. This dragonglass is shit.”

The Hound and Jaime helped Loras to his feet and guided him towards the city gates as Balon limped along. Glancing over his shoulder and towards the north, Jaime prayed to the Seven that Brienne was safe; that she and Daenerys would soon return unharmed. 

As Jaime neared the gates, he saw Addam rooted in place and staring into the distance with a worried expression on his face. When their eyes met, Addam grumbled. “This is shit. How do you watch your wife fly off like that and not die on the spot?”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime shook his head. “What makes you think I’m not dead and merely a wight trying to infiltrate the army of the living?”

Addam fell into step beside Jaime; his voice was a whisper in the darkness. “She’s with child. We didn’t… she didn’t think she could have children. We had not been using moon tea.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “What!? Are you mad!?”

Running a hand down his face, Addam grumbled in frustration. “I thought it true! We’ve been wed for 16 moons and for 14 moons… nothing. We just found out.”

The information sent a pang of sympathy through Jaime. If Brienne had been in a similar position, Jaime might have tried chaining her to the Keep. “Brienne will watch over her. She won’t let anything happen.”

_What of the next battle? Brienne is to fight from the ground. Jon must know so he can protect Daenerys._

The plan had been to position the Kingsguard in the godswood with Bran. While Barristan hated the idea of guarding Bran and not the king, Jon had insisted.

_“I charged all of you to guard the realm as much as me. If what Bran says is true, and our defeat is in his death, it is Bran that I need you to protect.”_

As they entered the city, Jaime’s eyes went wide. The city had several buildings on fire from the wight dragon. Soldiers rushed towards the structures and tried to put out the flames. Jaime continued to guide Loras inside with the Hound at Loras’ other side. Addam was to Jaime’s free side; his eyes constantly looking to the skies as though able to will Daenerys back to safety.

Glancing back at Barristan, Jaime watched the older knight rubbing his right arm. The sword arm was far from perfect after the incident in Valyria. Anytime Barristan fought for longer than an hour, the arm bothered him. Barristan had a gash at his jaw near the neck, and blood coated his breastplate and pauldron.

The walk towards the Keep seemed to stretch on forever. When the Kingsuard and senior officers reached the base of Aegon’s Hill, horses awaited them and Jaime sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Seven that they hadn’t broken free in a panic when the dragon came through. His feet hurt as much as his arms, and Jaime was looking forward to curling up in bed beside Brienne.

Their small group rode in silence to the Keep. Jon and Ned led the way, speaking in hushed tones as the horses snorted and blew puffs of condensation into the night air. Glancing at Loras, Jaime could see the younger knight bending forward in pain. 

“You alright?”

Loras’ eyes darted towards Jaime. With a nod, the knight forced a smile. “I imagine I’ll have a nice bruise to show for my effort.”

The dent at Loras’ armor was unbelievable. Jaime considered that it was merely from the impact of the creature’s follow through. At full strength, the creature likely would have caved in Loras’ chest. 

Arriving at the Keep, Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of Genna. “What are you doing!? Why are you not on the boat.”

Genna crashed into Jaime’s arms. It was not often that Genna showed fear, but she trembled against him. “There wasn’t time. Tyrion and the Starks are with Rhaella. She’ll be fine.”

“How was there not time!?” Jaime pulled back to appraise Genna’s face. “You were with them, were you not?”

“I was, but there were too many people! Young women and their babes. I couldn’t take a spot on the boats when they were left behind. I’m an old woman. I’ve had my time. Tyrion will take care of Rhaella, as will the Starks.”

Jaime didn’t doubt it, but the thought of Genna in the city when the dead arrived worried him. At Jaime’s side, Barristan approached and appraised those assembling. “Have you seen Lord Bran?”

Before Jaime could reply, Genna scoffed at Barristan. “That’s the first thing you ask!? I’ve been watching that awful battle from the balcony in my room! I worried for both of you!”

Barristan began to plead his case, but Genna abandoned Jaime’s arms for Barristan’s. “You’re a fool, Selmy! Getting on that bloody dragon without a saddle!”

“Gods, woman! Brienne only brought me to the gates.” Barristan’s words mattered little to Genna. When she was miffed about something, nothing could pacify her. Jaime snorted at the older pair at his side. 

When Genna finally released Barristan, she cupped his face and checked him over for injury. She tisked and ran her fingers over the nasty cut by Barristan’s jaw. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing. A scratch.” Barristan sighed and inclined his head towards Loras. “That one almost had his chest cave in.”

Genna was unimpressed by Barristan’s attempt to deflect her worry. Grabbing his hand, Genna pulled him towards the maester's office. “This needs tending. It’s deep.” 

_Better you than me, Barristan. Good luck._

Jaime exhaled loudly and glanced around. Most were headed towards their rooms to remove their armor and wash up. Until Brienne returned safely, Jaime would not do the same. He leaned against the wall near the entryway to the courtyard. Never before had he looked forward to the sound of dragons in the sky.

Almost an hour later, Jaime heard the sweetest sound. Rushing into the courtyard, Jaime looked to the sky above. Three dragons returned with two Targaryen women on their backs. A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s lips as he watched Viserion and Drogon touch down to return their riders to the Keep.

When the women approached, Jaime ran to them. His arms wrapped tightly around Brienne, but before Daenerys could walk away, he tugged her close. “Goodsister, you were not forthcoming about my niece or nephew.”

At Jaime’s words, he felt both women stiffen. Brienne’s eyes went wide and darted to Daenerys. A sheepish expression stretched across the younger Targaryen’s face. “Had I not mentioned it?”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed, but all he cared about was her and the babe’s safety. “Addam is rather distressed inside. You’ll find him pacing wildly in the throne room. He would have been out here waiting, but he was asked to guard Bran while he went… flying.”

_Whatever the hells that means. I’ll never understand the boy’s powers._

All three made their way inside. With his arm around Brienne’s waist, Jaime leaned close and kissed her cheek. “All dead dragons are dead once more?”

“Yes. It took our three dragons to bring down the last. It was truly massive! The dragon was torn to pieces by our three though. It won’t be able to rise again.”

Jaime looked over her body quickly. Her skin was cold and paler than usual. “We should get you warmed up. You’re colder than a wight.”

It was one of the startling things about fighting the dead. When the dead’s fingers reached out to claw at Jaime’s skin, their fingers were freezing. Even after Jaime’s blade felled the creatures, a chill remained where their limbs came into contact with his skin.

When they arrived in the throne room, Addam stood before Bran. The boy’s eyes were rolled back as often happened when he was investigating things. At the sight of Jaime, Daenerys, and Brienne entering the hall, Addam ran to his wife. The relief on his face was greater than Jaime had ever seen it. 

As Addam fussed over Daenerys, Jaime glanced at Bran. His face grimaced slightly as his body remained still on the floor. Abruptly, Bran’s eyes rolled forward and he gasped. Brienne moved quickly to Bran’s side and crouched before him. The boy’s breathing was labored as though he had been running from something. 

“I need to speak with Jon, the Kingsguard, my father, and any officers remaining.” Bran’s eyes darted to Addam and Daenerys. “Both of you as well.”

Brienne nodded in understanding and glanced towards the threesome at her back. 

“I’ll get the king and officers still in the Keep.” Addam offered. “I imagine my goodbrother here can summon his sworn brothers when he escorts his wife to their chambers. It looks to me like she could use a change of clothing.”

At the reminder of Brienne’s physical state, Jaime nodded and stepped forward to grab Brienne’s arm. “We’ll return with the rest of the Kingsguard.”

The walk back to the White Sword Tower afforded Jaime’s body time to settle. Until Brienne returned to him, Jaime’s adrenaline had remained elevated as though still in battle. Now that she was back, Jaime felt fatigue setting in. They had been awoken in the middle of the night, and the limited sleep combined with the physical effort of fighting the dead was hitting Jaime.

When they reached their room, Jaime offered to rouse the other brothers. Everyone was in their room half awake and tidying up. Jaime wasn’t surprised to find Barristan’s room empty. The Lord Commander was not one to take rest until everyone was accounted for. 

Jaime’s feet dragged up the stairs towards Barristan’s office. All he wanted to do was fall into bed with Brienne and hold her close. Their little girl was on a ship headed towards Tarth, and they still had to face an army of 300,000 dead things.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Jaime shuffled towards the study. Flickering candlelight poured in from under the door, signaling Barristan’s presence inside. It was deadly silent in the hall and outside the study, a reflection of the looming death they faced. 

Mindlessly, Jaime reached out for the handle and stepped inside. He was hit with an immediate warmth from the fire and his body sagged in relief. Then, he froze.

Genna’s and Barristan’s lips were locked in a passionate kiss. Genna was leaning against the edge of the desk as Barristan’s body leaned into her, though the lean appeared on account of Genna’s left hand tugging down Barristan’s head to meet hers. Barristan’s right arm was around Genna’s waist and his left hand reached out behind her and onto the desk for balance. 

To Jaime’s horror, Genna’s right hand was holding Barristan’s sword. Not Blackfyre. It was clear from the movement of her arm what Genna was doing with the hand down Barristan’s breeches.

At the sound of Jaime’s entry, their heads snapped towards the door. Both immediately began screaming at Jaime to get out and shut the door. 

_Oh gods! Shut the door! Shut the door!_

Jaime did as he was asked and then screamed. “Fuck! Wrong side of the door!”

He could still hear Genna and Barristan screaming at this back as he tugged open the door and flung himself into the hallway. 

_Gods. Why!? What is happening!? I need a Septon._

From the other side of the door, Jaime could hear frantic voices. Had it been Jaime caught like that with Brienne, he would have insisted on _finishing_. Unwilling to be anywhere in earshot if Genna and Barristan made the same decision, Jaime decided to wait at the far end of the hallway in the safety of an alcove where he could avoid any _sounds_.

_I can’t believe this. Brienne had the right of it. Gods. I’ll never hear the end of it._

As Jaime willed away the image in his head, a door opened and Genna stormed out. “Jaime Lannister! Do you know how to knock!?”

“Do you know how to bar a door!?” Jaime pushed off the wall and yelled in exasperation. An annoyed glare was the only answer he would get. With a huff, Genna turned around and made her way towards the stairwell. Following slowly, Jaime was uncertain what to do.

He had been sent to retrieve Barristan, but he was not keen on returning to the study at that moment. Opting instead to sit at the top of the stairs, Jaime waited silently.

The sound of the study door door opening made Jaime’s ears redden at what was to be an awkward moment between him and his Lord Commander. Jaime stared at the opposite wall and tried to make sense of it all.

_This is fine. They’re fully grown and can do as they please. Just don’t talk about it. Don’t acknowledge it._

Tentative footsteps at Jaime’s back signaled Barristan’s approach. The older knight cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “I assume you needed something.”

“King Jon called for council.”

A momentary silence settled over them as Jaime continued staring ahead with Barristan at his back. With a heavy sigh, Barristan spoke in a defensive tone.

“I did not intend for _that_ to happen. I…I’m sorry.”

_This is fine. Just be calm. Keep it together._

“Gods! My aunt!?” Jaime glanced over his shoulder and watched Barristan grimace in reply. His face was flushed and Jaime considered that he had never seen Barristan so uncomfortable.

_Alright. That was a slight overreaction._

Taking a deep breath, Jaime stood up and turned away. “That just… I was not _prepared_.”

Jaime began to descend the steps. Matching footsteps followed and a small voice called out. “I never touched her before. It will not happen again.”

Guilt consumed Jaime at the words. He did not wish to keep his aunt or Barristan from love if that was truly what they felt for one another. With a heavy sigh, Jaime stopped walking and glanced back at Barristan. 

_Gods. Was that his first kiss? And of all people... with Genna. She'll eat him alive._

“It’s fine. Just… just don’t come to me for any advice on _things_. Any activities you choose to pursue with my aunt, I would rather not know about.”

Barristan’s face burned impossibly deeper and he glanced away. They walked the rest of the way in silence as Jaime wondered what information Bran had to share. When they arrived, a large group including the Kingsguard stood around Bran. 

He was offering details of the battle between the dragons, and how none of the three could be raised again. Then he took a breath and spoke more solemnly. “We lost roughly 40,000 tonight due to dragonfire or the dead. In the effort to remove the threat from the dragons, a massive section of wildfire went off. One cache set off a series of reactions in the other jars nearby. Given the size of the Night King’s army, it’s likely we’ll need to face most of the wights in the battle to come.”

The news was not surprising, but it was disheartening. He pressed close to Brienne and gripped her hand. While he hated being separated from Rhaella, Jaime was glad that she got away safely. When the meeting was adjourned, Jaime pulled Brienne towards the White Sword Tower. His eyes darted over his shoulder towards Genna who was trying to get Barristan’s attention, but he only followed the rest of the Kingsguard; his head hung solemnly. 

Jaime felt conflicting emotions towards the older pair. Death was marching for them all, and no one should be alone when the Stranger came. At the same time, Jaime still felt rattled by what he saw. Brienne squeezed his hand and stared at the side of Jaime’s face. 

“What’s wrong?”

Forcing a small smile, Jaime shook his head in refute. “Nothing.”

Brienne said nothing more, for which Jaime was grateful. He only wanted to hold Brienne close and savor the momentary peace before death came for them. The thought made him feel slight guilt once more. His reaction earlier had been harsh, but it was a jarring sight to walk in on.

When they arrived back at their room and began to prepare for bed, Brienne looked at Jaime questioningly. “Are you certain that you’re alright? You seem… off.”

_I suppose she’ll hear of it sooner or later._

“Remember that awful theory you had about Barristan and my aunt fancying one another?”

The words captured Brienne’s attention and she stopped unlacing her boots to look at Jaime. Swallowing thickly, Jaime picked at a loose thread on his tunic before tugging the shirt over his head. 

“It would seem that _yet again_ , you had the right of it.” At Jaime’s displeased remark, Brienne smiled widely and nodded. 

“See. Things would be much easier if you simply listened to me. Did one of them admit it to you?”

Jaime grimaced at the question and shook his head in refute. “That would have been more bearable. I walked in on them.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Brienne’s lips. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the sound, but the amusement in her eyes made Jaime’s heart melt. “Stop it. I’m unwell.”

Jaime’s reply only made Brienne laugh harder. “It’s not funny. Her hand was not where it should have been. She grabs my chin with that hand, and now… we need to burn it. Just lop it off and chuck it out to the wights.”

Brienne laughed even harder; her hands clutching at her chest. When she calmed, she feigned shock. “No! This can’t be! He’s such a _chaste_ knight. What did my father say? Married to his sword? Though, it seems that Genna might like to be married to his sword too.”

“I’m unwell and you make a jape of this. If his breeches had been off, I may very well have left to join the army of the dead.” Jaime sat on the bed in a huff. Biting back another laugh, Brienne sat next to him and spoke lightly.

“You’ll be alright. On the bright side, given Genna’s age we won’t need to fight them for the moon tea.”

Jaime flopped to the bed and whimpered. “I thought you loved me. You’re horrible.”

Curling up beside him, Brienne hummed against Jaime’s neck. Her arm rested across his chest as her fingers danced across his shoulder. The touch was relaxing and after some time, Jaime felt himself beginning to nod off. 

Brienne’s voice called out softly at his side. “Jaime…”

With his eyes closed, Jaime hummed in reply. “Yes.”

“Aside from the fact that I had the right of it…” Brienne paused to let the fact sink in. Were Jaime’s eyes not closed, Brienne would not have appreciated the eyeroll. “... you should speak with him. Make certain he doesn’t feel wrong for it. I imagine you were a bit… dramatic.”

_Why must she always be correct? Very annoying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is when the main part of the dead's army arrive.


	75. Bran VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead arrive and Bran must choose the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good amount of canon quotes ahead. As with all these characters and prophecies - it’s all GRRMs.

Bran paced near the weirwood tree in the godswood at the Red Keep. Before him, seven sworn brothers as stood tall and determined as Bran had ever seen them. At three-and-ten, Bran was old enough to squire, but he had only just begun sword training. His legs were still problematic, but he learned enough to defend himself when the White Walkers and the Night King arrived. 

He knew they would get past the living. They were too strong and could only be killed by Valyrian steel; of that much Bran was certain. Dragonglass would not slow them, and fire seemed too weak of a threat. Still, they would try to kill the creatures with dragonfire. No one had tried before; at least not during the first Long Night.

With the dead, winter came. King’s Landing was blanketed in snow and ice. The army was as prepared as they could be to withstand the conditions, but the chill in the air was impossible to ignore. Bran’s fingers danced over the hilt of his dragonglass dagger. The digits ached from the cold as they groped the well-made hilt. 

In the distance, Bran could hear the war cries of the living. Only a moment later, the dragons ascended into the night sky; a clear indication that the living cheered on their king and his aunt. The dragons had flown over the crownlands just four days prior and set off the last of the wildfire as the dead moved over it. 

From what Bran could see, the Night King lost 50,000 from his 300,000. The dead outnumbered the living by 8X0,000, but Bran knew that the dead’s numbers would only grow as the living fell. When the front lines of the dead met the front lines of the living, the dragons had to hold back or they would risk friendly fire. 

The godswood was quiet save for a light breeze rustling the leaves. White cloaks billowed in the wind and gold armor shimmered from the multiple fires illuminating the area. Those standing boldly before Bran were the best in the kingdoms. If they all died tonight, Bran knew it was fate. There were no better knights to protect him than the sworn guards before him.

When the first sight of dragonfire lit up the sky, Bran sucked in a sharp breath. “I need to go now. I’ll fly among the dragons until the threat is closer.”

Uncertain eyes appraised him before his own set rolled back. When Bran opened his eyes, he was in the tree above his head. His host’s body left its perch and flew towards death itself. 

As Bran flew over the battlefield, he could see the massive fires before the army of the living and atop the battlements of the Keep. The archers would remove as many as they could, but the real fire from the skies would come from the beasts just in the distance. 

Bran felt his host’s heart race as he looked down upon wight giants, ice spiders, wights, wight bears, and wight horses. At the very rear of the lines, Bran saw him. The Night King sat astride his dead mount with thirty White Walkers at each of his sides. 

A long trench meant to slow the dead had been set ablaze by Drogon only moments before Bran flew over it. The intense heat radiating upwards from the trench kissed his host’s underside. Strangely, it was a welcome sensation. Hovering near the trenches for warmth and a clear view, Bran watched as the dead’s progress stopped. 

As the dragons began to cut through the Night King’s army, Ten White Walkers rode forward casually as though unphased by the extreme heat being emitted by the dragons’ breath and the trench at the front of the lines. 

Bran’s head cocked curiously in his host as he considered what they meant to do. It would be the first test to see how they responded to the flames, but Bran felt pessimistic at best. Wights slowly stepped to the side as their eerily calm generals passed. When the White Walkers reached the trench, they dismounted and took pause. All ten stood still for a moment before proceeding. They were spaced roughly thirty feet apart at each side. 

In unison, they took a step forward. As they neared the trench, the fire flickered and blew south violently towards the city. Bran’s eyes went wide as he watched ice meet fire. The creatures kneeled at the edge of the trench and reached forward with icy arms. Their bodies acted as a repellent to the flames. Slowly, the fire began to weaken and die. As the dragons continued to cut paths through the largest section of the army, the White Walkers were putting out the fire on the ground. 

In the distance, Jon saw what was happening and backtracked towards the trench. He urged Rhaegal forward and commanded the beast to breathe flames anew onto the trench below, but a commotion at his back captured Jon’s attention. 

A dragon’s shrill cry caught Bran’s attention. An ice spear had torn through one of Viserion’s wings and the dragon was falling towards the ground. The dragon was able to slow his descent, but his wing was too injured to lift back into the sky in time. As Viserion touched down, wights of all variety began to attack the dragon. Daenerys commanded Drogon forward to aid his fallen brother, but the Night King procured another ice spear from one of his generals.

Jon flew by Bran’s host at an astonishing speed. He had seen the looming threat before Daenerys and was taking aim at Drogon. Rhaegal collided and pushed his brother out of the way, but not before a spear met the smaller dragon’s side. 

_No! Jon!_

Like Viserion, Rhaegal spiraled towards the ground with a harnessed Jon on his back. By the mercy of the gods, Rhaegal hit the ground bellyfirst ensuring Jon’s survival. With two dragons down and wounded, Daenerys and Drogon were alone. The wights piled onto Rhaegal as they had Viserion. In defense of himself and Rhaegal, Jon swung wildly with his dragonglass sword to fend them off, but there were too many. 

Daenerys and Drogon were torn between helping both dragons, but Jon needed saving more than Viserion. Drogon surged forward and poured fire around Rhaegal. From the distance, Bran watched as Jon shielded his face and tried to curl in on himself. Unlike Dany, his skin responded to fire. When Rhaegal was free of the wights, the wounded dragon tried to stumble away. He struggled to fly; the spear to his belly too deep. 

As Daenerys tried to hold off more wights, the Night King approached and the wights parted to allow him access. With another spear in hand, he took aim. Drogon rounded on the Night King and a stream of fire poured from his mouth. 

The effort allowed Rhaegal enough time to leave the area. Pained cries filled the night sky as Jon and Rhaegal moved towards the city in the distance. When Drogon stopped pouring his fiery breath onto the Night King, Bran watched hopefully as the flames lessened. Staring back at Daenerys, the Night King smirked and raised his spear once more. 

At the sight, Drogon moved away just in time before taking a spear of his own. Flying west towards Viserion, Drogon again breathed down onto the wights below. Viserion struggled to lift into the sky on account of the rupture to his left wing. With a great effort, the dragon managed to leave the ground. Like Rhaegal, Viserion would be unable to stay in the battle against the dead. 

Bran only prayed that the dragons were able to get far enough away to not be targeted by the Night King once more. At the escape of his smaller brothers, Drogon moved west after Viserion to ensure his safe retreat. 

With no threat from the sky, and the trench extinguished at the front of the Night King’s ranks, the dead moved forward. Ten White Walkers led the charge towards the living and Bran watched in horror as the creatures began to cut through living soldiers with ease. They were too big, skilled and strong. 

Glancing back towards the north, Bran startled at the sight of the Night King staring at him with a vicious smirk on his icy face. _He follows me still._

Moving away, Bran flew as fast as his host would carry him towards the clashing rows of living and dead. He followed the movements of the White Walkers as they surged forward confidently. Then, one fell. 

Clusters of wights nowhere near the battle fell as the destroyed White Walker became little more than icy shards on the ground. Bran’s heart soared as he saw the followthrough of his father’s sword; the Stark patriarch’s eyes wide in shock. Half of Ice had ended the creature. The Valyrian steel was still strong enough to fell the White Walker, just as it had been in Brienne’s hand north of the Wall. 

With hope in his eyes, Robb ran west to engage the next closest White Walker. The creature was battling several living men at a time and beating them easily. At Robb’s approach, the creature turned as if sensing the threat. 

Valyrian steel met a sword of ice. At the impact, both Robb and the Whtie Walker looked to each other in shock. The creature spun left and killed three more living men before his counter swing at Robb. Robb ducked just in time, and his counter was easily batted away. 

The creature kicked Robb hard in the chest and sent him flying backwards ten feet. As Robb gasped for air, the creature stalked towards him. Robb’s sword had fallen from his hand at the impact and the creature stepped over it as though inconsequential. Raising his icy blade high, the creature prepared to end Robb’s life. Bran wanted to scream, but he could only caw. 

Then, a blade pierced the White Walker’s middle and sent his body shattering into icy fragments. Behind the creature, Addam stood panting in exertion. He helped Robb to his feet and handed back ice, but Robb only shook his head in refute and grabbed Addam’s dragonglass sword. It was a wordless decision to exchange blades; Addam the more capable swordsman of the two. 

To Addam’s left, Kevan shouted for aid. The left flank was being overrun by ice spiders and two White Walkers leading the charge. Addam ran towards the flank as Robb joined Ned once more. With two Valyrian steel blades at the front lines, Bran worried the Kingsguard would still need to face most of the deadly creatures. 

_28 remain. Gods. They need to destroy 28 of those things._

Dragonglass projectiles were flung from the trebuchets at massive ice spiders and wight giants. The living scrambled to regain some degree of control as the outer edges caved in under pressure from the army of the dead. 

When more wights fell, Bran knew it had to be Addam as Ned had not reached the next White Walker. Turning his host’s body around, Bran saw Addam clutching his shoulder. Blood ran down his arm and his face was the picture of agony as icy shards fell to the ground around him.

The knight from the Westerlands was pouring every part of himself into the battle, and Bran prayed he would survive the war, but in his visions, he had only seen those in the godswood. It was clear that Addam and Ned were trying to time their attacks against White Walkers when the creatures were engaged with several living soldiers. Bran worried that the Kingsguard would not have the advantage of numbers.

_The Kingsguard will not be able to destroy distracted White Walkers. They’ll never defeat 27 of them._

With three White Walkers destroyed, the Night King’s army was shrinking. Still, there were 27 White Walkers and the Night King himself. Far too many to stop. 

War raged on for hours. The only way that Bran knew the passage of time was by the position of the moon in the night sky. After the initial removal of three White Walkers, Ned and Addam had been unable to reach the rest. The creatures had progressed too far into the army of the living, and the field was chaotic.

The living were beginning to find themselves backed up against the city walls. Bran watched helplessly as more and more of the living’s army fell. In the distance, a dragon’s cry caught Bran’s attention. Daenerys and Drogon returned to the field with Jon and three Kingsgaurd on Drogon’s back. It had not occurred to Bran to track their movements after Drogon aided the escape of his brothers. 

The Targaryens and Kingsgaurd sat atop Drogon as the largest dragon poured fire onto the rear of the Night King’s lines along the easternmost edge. Seeing the dragon’s return, the Night King urged his undead horse east towards the dragon. 

Bran feared another well-aimed spear from the Night King may be their undoing. As the dragon set wight giants, ice spiders, and countless wights aflame on the easternmost edge of the battlefield, Bran observed that the Kingsguard had not descended from the dragon’s back. Then he realized what they were doing. 

The riders and dragon were drawing the Night King east while a group of his generals continued pushing forward to the West. As the Night King came close enough to take aim, Drogon abruptly veered away and surged forward rapidly towards the west. He carved a path of fiery destruction along the westernmost flank before touching down. Drogon and the riders were now well out of reach of the Night King.

As Drogon touched down. Bran saw the three Kingsguard slide off the dragon. With swords raised high, Jaime, Brienne, and the Hound engaged the White Walkers at the westernmost edge of the Night King’s army. Drogon breathed fire at any wights in the area to keep them from evening the odds. 

Five White Walkers engaged the three swordsmen as Drogon continued to hold off the wights that turned around to aid their generals. Hope blossomed anew in Bran as he watched the three maneuver around the creatures. The Hound’s skill was on par with the White Walkers, but Jaime and Brienne were superior to them.

The couple fought as one, moving fluidly around one another. Their blades cut too quickly for the White Walkers who were more brute force than speed. Brightroar dragged across the gut of one White Walker, as Dark Sister blocked a blow from another White Walker taking aim at Jaime’s head. 

As her blade held off the threat, she spun right, dropped to a knee, and shoved Dark Sister into another approaching White Walker. Jaime’s body quickly pivoted and stabbed the White Walker whose sword was taking aim at Brienne’s exposed side. It seemed to Bran as though Jaime and Brienne could feel threats against one another without looking. Their bodies reacted as though an extension of the other. 

When Jaime straightened, he was met with a spray of icy shards as Brienne cut through a fourth White Walker that had moved against them. In a heartbeat, Jaime and Brienne had killed two White Walkers each. To their right, the Hound killed the fifth. The Night King’s army was beginning to crumble around the living. 

Slowly, the Night King stalked towards them with more generals at his back. The Night King’s eyes shone with rage, though no sound escaped his lips. With his eyes locked on the three Kingsguard, Jon and Daenerys shouted at Jaime, Brienne, and the Hound to climb back atop Drogon. 

The Kingsguard ran back to Drogon as the dragon held off more wights. Just before the Night King came close enough to take aim with a spear, Drogon was back in the air and rapidly flying east. Two White Walkers were at the easternmost edge, and Bran realized with glee what they were doing. It was a game of cat and mouse. They would draw the slow moving Night King to one side of the field before engaging the other side and removing his generals. 

_They’re outsmarting him. We can win this still._

The pattern repeated with two more White Walkers shattering into pieces under the blades of Brightroar and Dark Sister. Slowly, the Night King’s numbers began to dwindle to the point of disadvantage. Bran watched excitedly as the Kingsguard stood heaving near their latest kills. Fragments of the frosty creatures scattered across the icy ground at their feet. 

Then, everything seemed to still. The Night King dismounted his horse and glared at the Kingsguard in the distance. Slowly, his arms raised. It was as though death took a breath. The battle stilled as dead men began to rise. Joining the Night King’s ranks were previous wights and new wights coated in fresh blood. Icy blue eyes began to surround the living. 

The dead had the advantage once more. 

Realization set in as Jon and Daenerys screamed at the Kingsguard to retreat, but Jaime refused. He took the momentary still in the battle to charge a White Walker just thirty feet to the west. 

Bran’s eyes went wide at the sight. Engaging more of the White Walkers would put Jaime too close to the Night King. With Brienne and the Hound running at his back, Brightroar raised high at the White Walker. 

The creature’s blade caught Brightroar, and his foot met Jaime’s chest. Jaime flew backwards into Brienne; the pair falling hard to the ground. Brienne’s head hit the icy ground, and Jaime struggled for breath as his armor had a fierce dent in it just as Loras’ earned in the last battle. 

Raising his ice spear high, the White Walker prepared to kill the two writhing Kingsguard on the ground. Before his weapon came down, the Hound charged the White Walker. With a battle cry that could make the dead tremble, the Hound released a torrent of blows unlike anything Bran had ever seen from the man. The force of his swings had the creature back on his heels. 

Before the White Walker could recover, Sandor shoved his sword through its chest. As the creature shattered, Sandor screamed loudly and glared at Night King in the distance. Sheathing his blade, the Hound returned to his fallen comrades. Drogon continued to hold off the dead as the Hound yanked Jaime and Brienne to their feet. 

The three stumbled back towards Drogon, and Daenerys commanded the dragon into the sky once more. Bran watched as they moved back towards the godswood and he knew it was time to return. With a final look at the battle below, Bran realized it was only a matter of time before the dead broke through the gates. 

There had been 30 White Walkers to start the battle. Ned and Addam killed three between them. The Kingsguard killed eight. With 19 remaining, Bran prayed they had a chance. 

_Nineteen. Nineteen and the Night King. Seven Kingsguard._

Bran’s eyes rolled forward in the godswood. He observed Barristan pacing nervously and muttering obscenities under his breath. Brynden, Balon, and Loras had their eyes trained on the sky. 

“They’re alright. Injured, but alright.” Bran’s voice was shaky as he stood from his position on the ground. 

Barristan rushed to Bran and grabbed his shoulder. “What happened!?”

Bran relayed what the Kingsguard had done. The Lord Commander appeared both pleased and upset at the information. With a nod, he looked to the sky and the approaching dragon. 

“Why did all of you not go?” Bran was curious what made them only send three.

Barristan glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “King Jon didn’t want to risk the plan failing. He wanted four here to guard you. It was _supposed_ to be me to go with the Hound and Brienne, but… Ser Jaime proves _difficult_.” 

Bran understood. Knowing Jaime, he likely shoved Barristan out of the way and smirked as he did so. When the dragon touched down, a dazed looking Brienne was helped from the dragon by her sworn brothers. Jaime was still struggling for breath, and Loras was certain to tease him. “Now who is the delicate one?”

Crouching at Jaime’s side, Barristan shook his head and appraised the massive dent in Jaime’s armor. “Can you breathe with it like this?”

Jaime shook his head in refute, and Barristan helped him remove the breastplate. The sight of the armorless Kingsguard unnerved Bran. _Why do I feel like this won’t end well?_

Bran had seen six paths for how the battle would end. Two saw the living fail. Another two saw Jaime among the dead. Only one path ended with Jaime standing beside Brienne at the end of it. 

While Bran did not wish to keep details from those around him, he knew it did no good to speak about _what ifs_ from poorly seen visions. As Brynden and Barristan hauled an armorless Jaime to his feet, they held Jaime upright as he struggled for breath. 

Loras sighed and patted Jaime’s shoulder as he stood before him. “That’s going to smart for days. The first hour is the worst.”

Jaime grumbled at the younger knight, but their attention was soon captured by Drogon, Daenerys, and Jon departing. The king wished to join the army on the ground with his dragonglass blade. Daenerys and Drogon were going to try and aid as many living as they could. 

Once the dead broke through the gates, Drogon would aim for the wights entering the city gates with the Night King and White Walkers. By doing so, the living could at least ensure wights didn’t prove a distraction during the final stand. 

Once more, seven stood before Bran. Looking to the stars, Bran estimated that nearly half a day had passed since the battle began. His extremities were numb from the cold despite having an adequate number of layers on. 

Silence descended over the godswood once more. Then Bran saw her. The red priestess he had been tracking for moons walked through the shadows silently. It was the woman’s words that guided Lord Edric’s hand one year ago. Melisandre.

Stannis’ former red priestess never left Westeros. She knew her role in the war with death, and she would play it willingly. Stepping from the shadows, she appraised the Kingsguard as they pressed close before Bran. 

“Who are you?” Barristan called out into the darkness. 

Bran spoke quietly at Barristan’s back; his eyes locked on the woman in question. “Melisandre. We need her.” 

With a small smile at Bran, the woman stepped forward. “Seven Kingsguard. Seven kingdoms. Seven gods of the false religion... though one of the six is death. Death comes for you now.”

The woman’s eyes flitted to Bran. Something in her eyes suggested that she knew the outcome. Bran considered her words. _Could she imply that six live and one dies?_

Before anyone could reply, Melisandre stared intently at Barristan. “Raise your Valyrian steel. All of you.”

The Kingsguard looked among each other, but all raised their Valyrian steel in their right hands. Six swords and one dagger. The red priestess gripped Barristan’s blade and began to chant in Valyrian. As she stared at the blade, trickles of blood ran down the steel. Abruptly, Barristan’s sword was ablaze.

The flame fanned out left and right until all seven weapons were ablaze. At the sudden appearance of flames, the Hound dropped his sword in fear. Even in the snow, the flame did not die. The woman looked to Sandor and spoke ominously. “The flames will burn so long as you live.” At the words, Sandor picked up the sword quickly; his eyes uneasy as he stood beside Loras. He grumbled a string of obscenities, but the red priestess had turned her attention to Barristan once more. 

Staring at Barristan, the red priestess spoke in even tones. “It’s always darkest before _dawn_. Stay close to your son.”

Pushing past the men, Melisandre walked towards Bran with knowing eyes. “One thousand eyes to find the light. Take the correct path little raven.” Melisandre’s hands reached out for the tree at Bran’s back. She began to chant once more. The red leaves above Bran’s head rustled louder than any other breeze that evening had caused. 

Something swept across the godswood unseen, but Bran could feel it in his chest. A fire blazed within and seemed to warm the entire space around them. Snow and ice rapidly melted away and captured the attention of the Kingsguard. 

When Melisandre finished, she nodded at Bran. “This will only slow and weaken them. The generals are not as strong; their ice magic is weaker. They’ve only taken pieces of _him._ ”

At the word, twenty figures approached. Nineteen White Walkers stood before their king. Their ice swords were drawn, but their eyes were a question. It was as though they could feel the same fiery presence that Bran did. 

Standing before Bran, the Kingsguard moved into a defensive position. The Hound, Loras, and Brienne stood towards the left. Jaime and Barristan at the center. Brynden and Balon at the right. 

To Bran’s left, one of the creature’s lunged at Loras. The younger knight’s blade rose to block the blow. As fire met ice, the creature’s sword of ice shattered when it connected with the flaming Valyrian steel. 

Everything stilled in the godswood as living and dead stared at Loras’ flaming blade. A gust of wind sent ice fragments from the creature’s broken sword into the air. As the creature’s eyes lowered in question to Loras, the young knight pulled back his blade and thrust it into the creature's gut.

Bran’s eyes went wide. _Our fire magic is stronger now._

Glancing back to the Night King, Bran saw the creature’s head tilt in question. At the realization that they held the upper hand, Barristan commanded the Kingsguard forward. “Beat them back!” 

Seven surged forward to engage eighteen White Walkers. Even with weakened blades, the creatures dodged swings and used their otherworldly strength to knock back the Kingsguard. A crushing blow to Brynden’s gut sent him flying backwards; his Valyrian steel dagger falling from his hand and rolling backwards towards Bran. 

Before the creature could kill Brynden, Balon shoved his sword through the White Walker. On Balon’s follow through, his injured knee gave out and sent him to the ground. As Brynden gasped and sat upright, his sworn brother fell into the Stranger’s arms. An ice spear made its way through Balon’s neck, killing him instantly. 

Brynden screamed and grabbed Balon’s fallen sword; Longclaw. The Valyrian steel cut through the White Walker before it could block the blow. 

To Bran’s left, the Hound destroyed another White Walker with a loud grunt. As he fell to a knee from the effort, another White Walker took aim. 

The Hound blocked a blow with his Valyrian steel, shattering the ice spear. From his prone position, the Hound was unable to land a counter before the creature grabbed Sandor by the neck and lifted him from the ground. 

Bran gasped at the strength the creature had to lift a man the size of the Hound by the neck. Sandor’s leg flailed as he spluttered and struggled to breathe. Towards the middle of the godswood, Brienne, Jaime and Barristan each killed a White Walker. With her attention free, Brienne’s eyes went wide and she charged the creature holding Sandor by the neck.

Two more fell against Barristan and Jaime just as Loras dodged a killing blow from his own foe. The young knight turned and joined Brienne’s effort to engage the White Walker strangling Sandor. Sensing the threat from Loras and Brienne, the White Walker threw the Hound’s nearly lifeless body into the younger knights. 

Loras became pinned under the weight of Sandor. The Hound’s face had purpled from inability to breathe, and he was struggling to recover. As the White Walker approached with its blade raised high to kill them both, Brienne rolled and surged upwards with Dark Sister in hand. She shoved her sword into the creature; sending icy shards across the ground. 

Bran’s eyes darted frantically around the godswood. Four Kingsguard were battling multiple White Walkers each as Loras and the Hound struggled to recover. For a moment, Bran’s eyes darted to the dagger. It was roughly five feet away and still flaming. The sword in Brynden’s hand, Longclaw, was no longer flaming after Balon had been killed. The White Walker he engaged maintained the integrity of its ice spear as result.

To the right, Loras was on his feet and back on his heels against a White Walker. The creature was faster than the others and larger. It dodged each of Loras’ swings and cut across the young knight’s leg with his blade. With a pained cry, Loras dropped to a knee. Before the White Walker could end him, a winded Sandor had shoved his sword through the creature’s back. 

Rapid movement caught Bran’s attention. Jaime and Brienne were fighting as one again with Barristan just to their right. The three killed another White Walker each. Their blades moved quickly and made the act seem effortless. 

On Jaime’s followthrough, he dropped to a knee. A massive White Walker took aim at his vulnerable state, but Barristan’s and Brienne’s swords reached out to block the killing blow. With a loud cry, Barristan spun right and landed a counter strike to the creature’s side, destroying it immediately. 

To Bran’s right, a White Walker stabbed Brynden just below the breastplate and kicked him hard in the chest. With Brynden now several feet away and gasping for air, the creature marched towards Bran. 

_Oh gods. What do I do?_

Shifting left, Bran’s eyes were frantic. The Kingsguard were all engaged with White Walkers as the Night King’s eyes followed Bran. The White Walker before Bran was weaponless, but it’s icy fingers reached out for Bran’s neck. In a movement similar to what happened to the Hound, Bran was lifted from the ground. 

Life began to drain from Bran’s body and his legs began to flail wildly. No sooner than he found himself raised by the creature, Bran was falling. A breathless Loras had lunged forward and killed the creature with Heartsbane. Bran scrambled to his right in a panic. It was evident that Loras had been injured moments before helping Bran. As the young knight gasped for air, another White Walker approached. 

Then Bran’s eyes landed on the flaming Valyrian steel dagger that Brynden had dropped earlier. Bran remembered one of the paths; the only path in which his hand held Varlyian steel. 

_Do I take it? In that path, is that the one with only six dying?_

Scrambling towards the dagger, Bran grabbed the hilt. His movement had caught the attention of the Night King and the creature stalked forward slowly. To Bran’s left, Loras engaged a White Walker, but the creature was too strong. It swatted Loras away like a fly. The young knight’s head collided into a tree and knocked him unconscious. 

Looking to his right, Bran saw the Night King walking towards him. The Night King was fifteen feet away, but a blade swung at his head. Without startling, the Night King blocked the blow; his own ice sword remained intact. It was then that Bran saw who attacked. Brynden stood before the Night King in agony from his injuries.

At the sight of their joined steel, the Night King stabbed into Brynden’s side and kicked him away as though a nuisance rather than a threat. The older knight flew backwards a dozen feet. Brynden’s removed presence left the Night King with an unobstructed path towards Bran. As if sensing the threat, Brienne, Jaime, and Brienne turned to engage the Night King. 

When blades took aim at the Night King’s back, the creature turned slowly. His sword moved in a flurry and deftly blocked three strikes. Startled at his speed, Jaime, Brienne, and Barristan stood before him with three White Walkers approaching at their backs. The battle seemed to slow around Bran. All he could hear was his heartbeat and the distant shouts of the knights before him. 

In an incredible display of swordsmanship, the Night King engaged the three Kingsgaurd again. Ducking and spinning under the flurry of blows from the Night King, all three Kingsguard were able to maneuver themselves around the Night King. They stood protectively ten feet before Bran. Three White Walkers came to stand beside their king as there was a momentary pause in the fighting.

The Hound and Brynden each had a White Walker to contend with, which left Jaime, Brienne, and Barristan alone to guard Bran. Bran’s eyes darted to Brynden. The battered knight struggled to remain alive and block blows from the White Walker before him. 

Before Bran, Brienne lunged towards the Night King, but the creature was too quick. He made an effortless block and dragged his sword across her leg. 

As Brienne fell to a knee, Jaime stepped before Brienne to protect her from a deadly blow. The Night King’s blade clashed with Jaime’s, but a White Walker took the opportunity to reach out for Jaime’s exposed side. Barristan acted quickly and blocked the killing blow to Jaime’s side. His sword twirled right and cut through the creature, leaving him, Jaime, and Brienne to face two more White Walkers and the Night King.

To the left, a weaponless White Walker head-butted the Hound, breaking Sandor’s nose on contact. The act left the Hound unconscious and defenseless. Stepping away from Sandor, the White Walker moved towards Brienne. 

As Jaime and Barristan engaged the Night King, Brienne tried to keep away two White Walkers. With a third stalking towards her, Bran panicked. He ran at the creature and shoved the dagger in it’s lower back. As the ice shattered, Brienne turned in surprise. 

The act nearly cost her life as a White Walker swung hard at her. Brienne blocked the blow, but the deflection sent the ice spear slicing downward towards her injured thigh.

A pained cry filled the godswood as Brienne dropped to a knee. Hearing her cry, Jaime turned and thrust his blade into the White Walker standing over her. The effort left Barristan alone with the Night King and the final two White Walkers. In a series of rapid movements, the Night King’s blade deflected off Barristan’s sword and sliced into his scarred arm. 

Rushing to Brienne’s side as she bled profusely from the thigh, Bran glanced over Brienne’s right shoulder and saw it. The vision he had that ended in Jaime’s death was playing out before him. With Brienne safe, Jaime turned at the sound of Barristan’s pained cry. He ran to his Lord Commander’s side to offer aid. Together, Jaime and Barristan fought against the Night King and two White Walkers. 

Once more, the Night King’s blade moved at an unnatural speed. His sword seemed everywhere at once. It acted as a sword for his generals whose own weapons proved useless against flaming Valyrian steel. With every block of flaming steel to protect his generals’ weapons, the Night King’s White Walkers thrust icy blades towards the vulnerable knights. 

Everything went into slow motion. Bran had seen this vision the clearest. He recalled the ancient words spoken of the Prince Who was Promised. _“When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.”_

Bran knew it was Barristan; protector of House Targaryen. Protector of the hidden dragons awoken by truths revealed. The Night King brought the darkness, and Barristan had the red star, Dawn, at his hip. Sweat lined the older knight’s brow as smoke drifted into the air from his flaming Valyrian steel. 

As the Night King blocked Barristan's blow, the power behind the Night King’s defensive swing was too overwhelming for the aged knight. Barristan’s right arm was still too weak from Valyria. The Night King’s blade dragged across the inside of Barristan’s swordarm, and Barristan’s weakened grip saw Blackfyre fall from his hand. 

As Jaime’s blade pierced another White Walker, he moved quickly in defense of Barristan, but the Night King was too fast. Jaime blocked an intense swing from the Night King which would have ended Barristan. 

Jaime positioned his body between Barristan and death itself. While Jaime’s swordarm blocked the Night King’s blow, Bran watched in horror as the Night King grabbed his ice dagger and thrust it at Jaime’s chest. Jaime gasped and fell backwards into Barristan.

The air felt sucked out of the godswood in their collective breath. Bran’s mouth opened and the sound that came out seemed someone else’s, “no!”. Brienne’s legs pushed up from her position on the ground and propelled her towards Jaime. 

As Jaime and Barristan stumbled backwards, Jaime clutched his chest. Blood rapidly saturated his clothing as he and Barristan fell to the godswood floor. At the sight of Jaime’s wound, Barristan’s face contorted in agony and his hand reached for the hilt of Dawn. 

The final White Walker stepped before Brienne to obstruct her path to the Night King, Barristan, and Jaime. Her sword crashed with the White Walker’s weapon and shattered it. In a wild swing, Brienne cut across the creature’s head. 

At the same time, Barristan moved against the Night King. His choked-sob preceded a flurry of swings faster than even the Night King’s movements. Barristan spun and ducked under a vicious blow from the Night King. 

They exchanged strikes and parries with the Night King moving back on his heels. In a desperate bid to end the aged knight, the Night King whipped his sword across his body and towards Barristan’s head.

Spinning underneath the threat, Barristan dropped to a knee and thrust Dawn into the Night King’s gut. An overwhelming wave of cold radiated out from the Night King’s body. His eyes went wide as he fell to his knees before Barristan. Ice melted away from the Night King’s face and body, humanizing him once more. The man appeared as he had so many years ago when the Children of the Forest created him. 

Barristan stood and pulled the sword from the Night King’s middle. Grief and rage shone in Barristan’s eyes as the creature tried to stand. Blood poured from the Night King’s wound and his hand clutched at his gut in disbelief. 

Pulling back Dawn and holding the hilt with two hands, Barristan swung with everything in him. The blade cut straight through the very human flesh of the Night King’s neck and sent his head flying. 

“Jaime!” Brienne’s voice caught Bran’s attention. He turned to see Jaime’s head being cradled in Brienne’s lap as tears streamed down her face. She was smiling down at him as he reached for her cheek. 

Confusion lined Bran’s face. _How? I saw him die by the Night King’s dagger._

Barristan stumbled back towards Jaime and fell to his knees, tearing open Jaime’s jerkin and tunic. Bran’s feet carried him forward of their own accord. Then Bran realized what had happened. 

The Night King’s dagger caught the coin purse worn around Jaime’s neck. The gold coin inside had prevented the point of the dagger from carving a path straight into Jaime’s chest, but the force of the blow dragged the dagger’s jagged edges downward after meeting the coin. There was a long, bleeding gash down Jaime’s chest. 

The wound would need stitching and was bleeding substantially, but it did not appear to hit organs. Looking at the coin itself, Barristan’s eyes went wide. The coin had warped and bent by the Night King’s dagger.

Despite the pain, Jaime huffed a laugh. “See? Lucky coin.”

Barristan pulled Jaime to a seated position; his arms circling around the younger knight. Pulling Brienne into the embrace, the three held each other tightly as the older knight sobbed and scolded Jaime for using himself as a shield. In the distance the victory cry of the living filled the night air. 

For as incredible as the feeling was, Bran glanced at Balon’s lifeless body. Brynden was struggling for life as he lay bleeding and dazed from several wounds. The Hound and Loras were unconscious from injury, but breathing. Then Bran considered the rest of the living who had lost their lives. 

_Only death can pay for life._


	76. Brienne XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the dead are defeated, the living appraise the damage and mourn.

“Where are the Kingsguard!?” Genna’s voice carried through the hall as Brienne sat beside Jaime’s recovery bed. The maester had set up a makeshift infirmary so that he could treat everyone in closer proximity. Rows of cots stretched out as far as the eye could see in the great hall. 

Brienne’s own injuries had needed stitches. Her right leg was outstretched before her to ease the pain. The gash at her thigh sent waves of pain through her body, but she was alive and would not complain. 

When Brienne saw Jaime fall and blood coat his clothing and the ground, Brienne saw her entire world crumble. Every part of her thought Jaime dead. When she had fallen to her knees beside Jaime and saw a faint smile at his lips, Brienne felt like she could breathe again. 

_ We’re never giving away this coin. I don’t care if it is the last to our name.  _

Brienne watched as Genna ran towards Jaime. He was lying on his back with bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. Maester Harmon had cleaned and stitched the wound. When Brienne showed him the coin, the maester gasped in disbelief. 

One cot down, Brynden was struggling to breathe. The Hound and Loras crowded around his body; the latter still woozy from his head injury. As to the former, a deep purpling had set in at his neck where one of the White Walkers nearly squeezed the life from him. The Hound’s nose was badly broken, but the maester had maneuvered the bone back into place to ensure proper healing. 

Maester Harmon had just taken Barristan to receive stitches. Before receiving treatment for his arm, Barristan sought aid from soldiers to retrieve Balon’s body from the godswood. He didn’t want Balon dumped outside the gates with the rest of the fallen who would be stacked up and burned in a formal ceremony.

Tears streamed down Genna’s face as she dropped to her knees; her trembling hand reaching out to touch Jaime’s chest. At the touch, Jaime feigned pain. Genna recoiled as if struck, but when she saw Jaime smile and chuckle, she swatted his arm angrily. 

“Can you take nothing seriously!? I was petrified the entire time in that awful room!”

Those who could not fight and didn’t make it to the ship headed for Tarth were placed in Maegor's Holdfast. Genna had raged and complained that they would have no way of knowing the outcome while trapped there. 

Jon had only sighed and shaken his head at her.  _ “If you hear only silence, I can assure you, we lost. Ser Barristan showed Maester Harmon the secret passageways that will take you out. Flee to Tarth if you can.” _

Now as Genna wiped at the tears staining her cheeks, she reached for Jaime’s face. “Never again. You’re done now.”

“I’m done with today’s battle. I only hope the next is not for some time.” Jaime’s voice sounded as fatigued as Brienne felt. The White Walkers were stronger than any man she had ever faced. The force of their blows was bone-shattering, and she considered herself lucky to be alive  _ and  _ walking. 

Genna’s eyes darted towards Brynden, Loras, and the Hound. She began to panic and look around frantically. “Barristan! Gods. Where is he!?”

A knowing smirk tugged at Brienne’s lips when she glanced at Jaime. She had been right about Barristan and Genna. Just a week earlier, Jaime had stumbled upon them after the first altercation with the dead. He spent the night rubbing at his eyes and trying to will away the image. When Brienne made a passing comment to Genna the following day, the older woman had reddened and glanced away.  _ ‘A momentary madness brought on by near-death.’ _

Brienne’s face had fallen at the remark.  _ ‘I don’t know if he would call it that.’ _

Brienne hoped that Jaime’s reaction had not dissuaded them from pursuing love. Further, she hoped that they did not deny it from one another to avoid vulnerability. She knew the feeling all too well. Had Jaime not kissed her at Winterfell years ago, Brienne knew she would have taken her love for Jaime into the Stranger’s arms. Like Ser Barristan, Brienne feared the vulnerability that love brought.  _ Bold in battle. Craven in love.  _

By comparison, Jaime and Genna loved boldly and fiercely. They would withhold love from their lives. Had it not been for the issue with Lord Leyton, Brienne was convinced that Barristan and Genna would have been together already, but she had been hurt by it all, and Barristan was not forthcoming with his feelings.

“The maester is tending to him.” Brienne tried to calm Genna, but the words did little to calm her.

Genna stood from her crouched position. “Where!? What has he done now!? Was he bleeding too much? How bad is the wound? Will he be alright?”

Groaning at Brienne’s side, Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods, Genna. Slow down. I’d say he’s quite alright. Well enough to lop off the Night King’s head.”

At Jaime’s words, Genna startled. Her eyes went wide and for once, the woman was speechless. Standing with great effort from her chair beside Jaime, Brienne smiled at Genna and spoke softly as she would to Rhaella. “Shall I take you to him?”

Genna looped her arm around Brienne’s and tugged her. “Which way?”

They walked down the first hallway off the left side of the great hall. Pain shot through Brienne’s body like a lightning bolt with every step that distributed weight onto her injured leg. In the second room on the right, Maester Harmon was bent over Barristan’s right arm as the Lord Commander was reclined on the table. Barristan’s armor was piled on the floor with his jerkin and tunic atop it. Brienne smirked at the sight of the tunic; it was one that Genna had sent. Pillows propped Barristan up at the back so that he wasn’t completely flat. 

The aged knight grimaced as Maester Harmon worked. He, like Jaime, refused poppy. The gash to Barristan’s arm was quite deep, and Brienne had grimaced when she first saw it. Before she could announce their presence, Genna gasped loudly and pushed past her.

“You old fool! What did you do!?” Genna’s eyes were wild as she ran around the bed to Barristan’s left side. 

“Stop yelling at me like I did this to myself!” Barristan huffed at Genna’s reprimand, and it was all Brienne could do not to laugh at them. 

Despite her vexed tone, Genna’s eyes shone with worry. She sat on the edge of the bed and cupped Barristan’s face. “I told you to be careful!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” The reply did little to assuage Genna. She swatted Barristan hard in the chest, causing his body to flinch. 

Maester Harmon huffed and steaded Barristan’s arm. “If you could refrain from hitting the Lord Commander while I stitch his wound. I don’t believe he needs my own finger sutured to him.”

Wordless, Genna lowered her head to Barristan’s chest to lay there quietly as Harmon worked. Brienne saw a soft smile tug at Barristan’ lips as he held her with the left arm. Taking that as her cue to leave, Brienne moved away from the door and back towards the hall. 

When she returned, an incredible wave of relief hit her at the sight of her father sitting beside Jaime and ruffling his hair.  _ Thank the gods! _

Brienne had begged anyone for word of Tarth’s contingent. For word of her father. Hobbling across the hall, Brienne watched as Selwyn’s head turned towards her. He stood and opened his arms in greeting. When Brienne crashed into him, she could hear the air leave his lungs.

“Gods, child! You hit me harder than those annoying dead things.”

Stepping back, Brienne searched his body for injury. “Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need treating? Maester Harmon is nearly done with Ser Barritsan.”

Selwyn’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Bruises here and there. I must say, it was odd not being the tallest on the battlefield. They had giants, Brienne! Well… I suppose we did too, but we just had the two.” 

“Including or excluding you?” Jaime’s voice chirped from the cot below, earning a withering glance from Selwyn. 

“Do you truly not tire of him? We can find you another?” Selwyn’s voice was teasing, but the fondness in his eyes relayed how empty the threat was. 

Abruptly, Selwyn’s mirth died. “You lost Ser Balon up here.”

“Yes. What of outside the gates?”

Selwyn shook his head and glanced away. “I managed to keep Gendry alive. The boy nearly got himself killed, but… Ser Endrew.” Brienne’s heart shattered at word that Endrew had not survived. 

Her legs swayed beneath her and her chin trembled. “How?”

Selwyn sighed and sank to the chair. From the bed, Jaime tried to sit upright. It was his first effort to move since the stitches were placed, and Brienne reminded herself that Jaime had come to know Endrew quite well. Even Addam had struck up a strong friendship with the Tarth knight.

“Gendry fell at my right. I rushed to aid him, but I didn’t realize the threat moving against me. Some gods damned dead bear. Endrew shielded me with his body and the thing tore him to pieces. Not long after, Endrew rose with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I had to kill him myself the second time.”

A pained expression lined Selwyn’s face as misty eyes looked at Brienne. “First Goodwin and now his son. I lost them both. We lost many good Stormlanders. At first, I tried to count them. I tried to remember the names so that I could visit their homes myself. I would see a lord I knew and commit the name to memory so that I may inform his kin; his next in line. Then feet away, I would see his son or sons. There are too many, and I…” Selwyn looked away and shook his head. “...too many.”

Jaime’s posture sank as he considered Selwyn’s words. “Do you know anything of the West? Is Addam alright?”

The West and the Stormlands had fought shoulder to shoulder. They were positioned to the western edge of the field. Brienne recalled with dismay how overwhelmed that flank had become when they flew over to attack the White Walkers.

Selwyn huffed a laugh. “Were it not for Addam, many more would be dead. He fought with Robb Stark’s sword after saving the boy. He cut down two White Walkers! Felled many wights too. He’s a bit beat up, but he’s well. I saw him on the way to the Keep. He was looking for his wife.”

At the news, Jaime visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”

Nodding in understanding, Selwyn patted him on the shoulder. “As to the rest, there are so many dead. We lost other good men and leading nobles. Ser Manfrey, Lord Tarly, Mance Rayder, Lord Royce, Lord Edmure, Ser…” Selwyn glanced at Jaime; his face falling in sorrow. “Ser Daven. I’m sorry, Jaime.”

At word of his cousin’s death, Jaime hung his head in reply. “My uncle? Do you know if Kevan lives?”

A small huff pushed past Selwyn’s lips. “He roared loudest of them all. The man stood firm the entire time. He’s alive, though injured like most. His left arm was shattered under the foot of a wight giant.”

Brienne grimaced at the words, but her mind quickly wandered to House Stark. “What of the Starks? Lord Ned and Lord Robb?”

“They’re alive. Tired and in pain, but alright. No one will fight instruction to take rest tonight. How did it end? All of a sudden, the dead fell. We had been suffocating; pressed against the wall of the city. I thought we might be crushed into pieces together, but then the pressure just… ceased.”

The Hound pointed at Jaime. “This one and Barristan. Your goodson was the shield and Barristan the sword.”

“Ser Barristan beat the Night King in single combat. I don’t think I’ll challenge the old man in the yards anytime soon.” Loras shook his head as his right hand pressed firm against it.

As the night dragged on, more names identifying those among the fallen echoed off the walls. Each name hurt to hear. From Jon’s early reports, more than 100,000 met the Stranger in battle. That night, everyone would rest. On the morrow, they would appraise the damage and remove the dead bodies. The day after, they would bid farewell to their fallen comrades. 

* * *

The ceremony to bid farewell to the fallen had finished an hour earlier, but the Kingsguard would mourn in their own way. Battered and tired, they stood around the body of Ser Balon in the Sept. All six stood around their sworn brother’s body. Funeral stones had been placed over his eyes, but sight of his lifeless body was blurred by the unshed tears in Brienne’s eyes.

All Brienne could see was a gifted cyvasse set that she and Balon spent countless hours sitting before. All she could hear was Balon’s banter with Loras that would never grace the halls again. All she could feel was the tightness in her throat at the image of Balon holding Rhaella close and looking at her like she was the world. 

_ I understand why Barristan didn’t want this hurt. I too never want to bury another brother, but I’ll have to eventually _ .

Brienne’s eyes drifted to her sworn brothers. They stood tall, but broken. No one moved to speak as they stared at Balon. Jaime and Barristan had lay to rest more brothers than Brienne cared to think on. She wondered if it always felt like this for them. Surely they cared little for men the likes of Meryn Trant, but before that Kingsguard, there was Aerys’ Kingsguard. While the king was unworthy,  _ those  _ knights were truly made in the Warrior’s image.

That morning, Brienne had found Barristan sitting in the common room where the White Book was displayed. He sat at the table before it with a quill in hand and vacant look on his face. 

_ Earlier that day _

“Ser Barristan?”

At Briene’s voice, Barristan looked up from the book. His eyes were despondent, but then again, they always looked a touch sad to Brienne. She stepped into the room and glanced at the page. It was open to Ser Balon’s page; his entry shorter than most on account of his shorter tenure.

“I have to finish his page.” Barristan glanced back at the book as though the words might write themselves if he stared hard enough.

“I think it could wait. Give yourself time to reflect.”  _ Or mourn _ .  _ I can’t bring myself to walk past his room.  _

Earlier, Brienne made the mistake of passing Balon’s vacant room. A slight chill spilled under the door and nipped at her ankles. She wondered about the state of the room. Death was strange like that. Most people didn’t leave their room or home thinking to never return. 

_ Did he leave things out thinking he would be back? Was he in the middle of a cyvasse game with someone thinking he would finish playing later? Did he have anything his kin might wish to have? _

Brienne didn’t want to think about a new sworn brother or sister. She wanted Balon back with his loud laugh, scowls, and burly frame. 

_ Someone should inform Ser Caron. He should know what happened.  _

Barristan sighed heavily and cut through Brienne’s spiraling thoughts. “I should finish it now. It’s my duty.”

Nodding in reply, Brienne tried to lighten the mood. “I suppose you shouldn’t write how courageously he moved his crossbowmen in cyvasse.”

Light laughter shook Barristan’s chest as his eyes moved from the White Book to Brienne. “It’s a less common entry, though just as accurate as to state how he boldly took the Hound’s share of the ale at supper.”

Brienne smiled warmly at Barristan. For a moment, she saw a flash of mirth in his eyes. He turned back to the page and finished the entry. Brienne could tell that writing gave him difficulty with the injury to his arm as the muscles moved to put words to parchment. When he finished writing, he stood from his seat and glanced at her. “Thank you. I think I might have sat there all day.”

Walking towards Barristan, Brienne looked down at the page and smiled. The last lines held the fresh ink, but the finality to it made Brienne tear up. 

_ ‘Stood valiantly against the dead during the second Long Night. Felled a White Walker wielding the Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw. Died protecting his sworn brother, Ser Brynden, and the realm.’ _

Barristan left the room to prepare for the farewell to Balon at the Sept. While being careful not to smudge the newly placed ink, Brienne glanced at older entries in the book. She smiled at how large her great-grandfather's page was. She snorted at how humble Ser Barristan’s own entries to his page were. She gasped at how Ser Barristan corrected Jaime’s entry.

_ He has not seen this.  _

_ ‘Ser Jaime of House Lannister. ... Knighted in his 15th year by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, for valor in the field. Chosen for the Kingsguard in his 15th year by King Aerys II Targaryen. During the Sack of King's Landing, slew King Aerys II at the foot of the Iron Throne  _ **_to save the city_ ** _. Thereafter known as the "Kingslayer." … Refused the tyrannical command of King Joffrey Baratheon to save Princess Brienne Tarth, daughter of Queen Rhaella Targaryen. Took self-inflicted wound to save innocents from unlawful imprisonment. Returned wrongfully held political prisoner, Lady Sansa Stark, to her kin. Fought in the Battle for Winterfell to save Princess Brienne Tarth, Tarth’s guards, and Ser Barristan Selmy. Led the West against the false queen, Cersei Baratheon, after her use of wildfire to destroy the dragonpit and kill innocents, including Queen Margaery Baratheon. Served in King Aegon “Jon” VI Kingsguard. Wed the first female knight of the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Princess Brienne Tarth. Journeyed to Valyria at the behest of King Aegon VI to recover Brightroar for use against the army of the dead. Saved Ser Barristan Selmy in the effort to recover Brightroar. Stood valiantly against the dead during the second Long Night. Felled six White Walkers wielding the Valyrian steel sword, Brightroar. Saved Ser Barristan Selmy from certain death against the Night King. _

  
  
  


Now as Brienne stood in the Sept, her eyes appraised Jaime and Barristance once more. Jaime had an attachment to Barristan as she had to her own father. Further, the Lord Commander seemed equally reliant on Jaime’s presence in his life. While they were awful at communicating their regard for one another, Brienne knew that they had to be kept together. Rhaella looked to Barristan as she did Selwyn; a grandfather. Unlike Selwyn, Rhaella saw Barristan daily. Their bond was as tightly formed as Rhaella’s reliance on Brienne and Jaime.

It was that observation that had led to Brienne’s conversation with her father at Rhaella’s first nameday celebartion. 

_ A year ago _

“I’m sorry… say that again?”

Selwyn’s brows furrowed and he leaned close as though he hadn’t heard Brienne the first time. “Whenever Jaime and I move to Tarth, I wish to take Ser Barristan too.”

Selwyn’s body shook with laughter and his eyes held a fondness that only a father could afford such a request. “My tenderhearted little girl. You cannot just steal away with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard because you adore him. At the rate you’re going, I’ll have all six of your sworn brothers at Evenfall by the end of your first term.”

“Well I would not  _ force  _ him, father. I only mean to encourage him…  _ strongly _ .”

Selwyn only laughed louder at the words. “You’re going to steal him. Gods, this is just like the incident with the lamb.”

“Father! This is not like that.” Brienne scolded, but Selwyn was lost in memory; his chest heaving with laughter. 

“You just couldn’t bear the thought of doing as the butcher and Ser Goodwin bid you. What did you name her? Lilac? Ridiculous, really, thinking we wouldn’t notice a bloody sheep hidden in your room.”

Crossing her arms, Brienne sat back in her chair and tried to cut him off, but it was no use. “Her name was Lily, and she was lovely. Too lovely to eat. And do not compare this to that.”

Selwyn heard none of it as he looked to the ceiling and sighed. “Took three of us to drag the bloody thing out of your room. Now you mean to drag poor Barristan onto a ship and keep him like a nameday gift in your room.”

“Father!” At her tone, Selwyn finally looked at her. “Would you listen to me? This is not like that. Ser Barristan has nowhere to go should he decide to take no additional terms. He was firstborn of his House, but set aside his birthright to serve. The Kingsguard receive no pay. He has nothing save the clothes on his back. He has no kin; or at least none that he knows. Jaime is all that Ser Barristan has, and if we leave, I think it will break him. Did you see the way he was with Rhaella today? She is his world; and he is her world. She calls him grandpa just as she does you. I think… I think he and Jaime need one another. I’ve already spoken to Jon about it. If Barristan wishes to leave the Kingsguard, I want him to come to Tarth.”

Selwyn appraised Brienne and digested the words. “You’ve not discussed this with your husband or Ser Barristan? Only the king?”

“Of course I’ve not discussed it with Jaime and Ser Barristan. Do you see what I’m working with here? At this point, I needn’t explain Jaime. You’ve experienced that bundle of emotional chaos. Then I’ve Ser Barristan. The man who saved a vomit-stained rug for moons on end using it as a physical reminder to avoid personal connection. The brothers call them Ser Father and Ser Son… well… now Ser Grandfather and Ser Dad. Can you imagine enduring Jaime on Tarth  _ without  _ Ser Barristan? He’ll just sit at the docks moping and staring towards King’s Landing claiming there is no one decent to spar with and no one to annoy.”

Selwyn reached forward and grabbed Brienne’s forearm. “Brienne, you needn’t explain it. I would never deny Barristan a life at Evenfall. I see what he is to Jaime, Rhaella, and you. Quite frankly,  _ no _ , I don’t want to endure your husband without Barristan there to deal with him. I only questioned you because I wonder if it is what  _ he  _ wants. I meant what I said six moons ago. He has dedicated his entire life to serving the realm. Yes, he gave up much to do it and has nothing to his name, but perhaps he prefers the simplicity of it all.”

“I would have agreed with you three years ago, but I’ve been around Jaime and Ser Barristan daily for years now. They’ve been serving at one another’s side for almost as long as I’ve been alive. They might have misunderstood each other for much of that time, but now you can’t separate them. They’ve experienced things together that I can’t begin to comprehend; Aerys madness, Robert’s drunkenness, Joffrey’s cruelties,  _ inside  _ Valyria. They still won’t talk about what they saw in the ruins. Most nights I can calm Jaime from his nightmares, but sometimes… sometimes he has to just check to ensure Barristan is not being consumed by some flesh-eating creature. They’re just rooms away right now. It would be quite the trip to check on Barristan if one is on Tarth and the other in King’s Landing. Then of course there are the apples. Barristan sometimes needs to ensure Jaime is still breathing.”

Selwyn snorted at the words. “I’m not getting rid of apples at Evenfall! They’ll just have to deal with it.”

“So… you’ll allow it then?”

With a heavy sigh, Selwyn raised a brow at Brienne. “Did you truly think I wouldn’t? That boy has been with Barristan since he was five-and-ten. Jaime’s quality is  _ far  _ more Barristan than Tywin. Just as Arianne claimed you, I believe Barristan has claimed Jaime. He’ll always have a place at Evenfall if he wishes it. He and I can take Rhaella sailing and fishing and swimming. He’s a proper Stormlander. I have to say though… the bickering! Are those two always like that?”

Brienne snorted at her father’s observation of how Jaime and Barristan often interacted. Jaime would needle Barristan to get a rise out of him, and Barristan would take the bait each time. The brothers had learned to ignore it, but Brienne always found herself sucked in as their arbitrator.

“Yes, they are. I think its how they express love.”

Selwyn snorted in reply. “Gods help me.”

  
  


After another hour standing vigil in the Sept, the Kingsguard prepared to depart for the Keep. It was then that Brienne noticed Ser Caron in the shadows. Balon’s former lover stood crying silently in the shadows; his head bowed as they walked by. 

In front of Brienne, Loras and the Hound were supporting Brynden who was still weak from injury. The Blackfish stopped walking halfway up the stairs, and Brienne worried he was going to faint at the effort. 

The Blackfish took a deep breath and called out to Ser Caron. “Go on. We all know and were glad of it. Love shouldn’t have to hide in the shadows when it mourns.” 

Ser Caron nodded and hobbled down the steps. Like most who survived, he was injured. Brienne felt a deep sorrow as she considered Brynden’s words. She didn’t want that to be Loras someday. She wanted Loras to find love and love openly as she was able to love Jaime. 

Brienne couldn’t fathom having to hide her love for Jaime. Such a need felt as painful as the thought of her love being unrequited. The thought reminded Brienne of their precarious situation years ago when they thought Jaime might not be released from his vows, and they had no way of knowing his vows would change.

The Kingsguard slowly made their way back to the Keep. The feast would be that evening, and based on the missive from Tarth, people would begin returning in two days. Brienne prayed to the gods that Rhaella was on the first ship. She wanted to hold her little girl and never let go.

By the time they returned to the Keep, the great hall was being prepared to host the feast. In an hour’s time, the Kingsguard would make their way downstairs to enjoy the festivities. Brienne was glad for the time in between mourning and feasting. If she had to enter the hall at that moment with the image of Balon lifeless in the Sept, she might have wept the entire night. 

When Brienne and Jaime arrived back at the White Sword Tower and stepped into their room, Brienne was surprised to feel Jaime’s hand grab hers and spin her around quickly. A small gasp left her mouth at the unexpected movement, but Jaime’s lips pressed warm and firm to hers.

Pushing the door shut with his right hand, Jaime backed Brienne up against the wall nearest the door. Brienne’s injured leg ached at the movement, but the rest of her body was eager to indulge whatever madness had overcome Jaime.

Hands tugged away clothing faster than armor was donned when the dead arrived. At the sight of the stitched wound running down Jaime’s chest, Brienne stilled. With the chaos of the past days since the cleanup efforts began, Brienne had not fully digested how near she came to losing Jaime. As if sensing her spiraling through, Jaime’s pace slowed. His hands stroked her cheeks and his kisses softened. 

“I love you.” Jaime’s words were whispered against Brienne’s lips. 

It wasn’t often that they said the words to one another; they didn’t need to. Their love was reflected in actions and nonverbal communication. Brienne never doubted the depth of Jaime’s feelings for her, nor did he question how much she loved him. Their love had become one another’s constant. No matter how chaotic everything was around them, they could rely on each other.

With a soft smile, Brienne stared into Jaime’s eyes; her fingers brushing through his hair. When their foreheads touched, it was the most calming feeling Brienne ever felt. “I love you too.”

They spent some time placing gentle kisses and tender caresses to one another’s body. When Jaime’s cock was crying out for attention and could take it no more, he guided them towards the bed. Their pace started slowly when Jaime entered her, but soon became more vigorous. The sound of the bed creaking was rivaled only by their moans of pleasure. 

Their breathing began to shallow and the temperature in the room felt as though it increased tenfold. Brienne’s legs wrapped tightly around Jaime’s hips and urged him faster and harder. The bed creaked under their effort as the headboard hit the wall rhythmically. As their bodies clenched and moved together, Brienne felt something wet drip onto her chest. In his strain, Jaime had popped a stitch at the top of his wound. 

Brienne’s mouth opened to say something, but her release was too close. She gasped and moaned loudly as Jaime sent her spiraling. Only moments after, Jaime spilled with a loud roar and her name at his lips. 

As they lay panting, Brienne tapped Jaime’s shoulder. “You… you popped a stitch.”

Jaime was still buried deep inside Brienne as he pulled back to appraise his chest. “Seven hells. I suppose I should find Harmon.”

Jaime’s hand caressed Brienne’s thigh, but recoiled quickly. “Shit! Sorry!”

“What?” Brienne was still catching her breath while staring at the ceiling. 

“Your thigh. You’re bleeding.”

Following Jaime’s gaze, Brienne saw that she had popped a couple of stitches at the top of her thigh. With a groan, Brienne sat upright as Jaime moved off her. “Gods. Lets hope he hasn’t already gone to the feast. This would prove rather awkward.”


	77. Barristan V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The army of the living feast to celebrate the Night King's destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead and note... it's not a Jaime or Brienne POV

“Where are they!?” Genna huffed at Barristan’s side as the hall began to fill to capacity. 

Genna had invited herself to sit with the Kingsguard at the celebratory feast. None of the sworn brothers were bold enough to tell her otherwise, and Barristan was hardly of mind to send her away. 

The feel of her body pressed warm and close at his right side made Barristan feel as though he drank a barrel of wine. Barristan was both pleased and petrified to have Genna near him. The events of a week prior had rattled Barristan and left him feeling guilty and embarrassed over his actions. 

_One week ago - night of the dead’s first attack_

After receiving treatment from Maester Harmon, Barristan made his way back to the White Sword Tower. Genna matched his steps and worried over him. “You’re not as young as the other Kingsguard! You need to take better care of yourself.”

“The only one who can match me in the yards is your nephew! I’m fine. And Brynden isn’t _that_ young, yet I don’t see you fussing over him like he’s liable to blow away in a stiff breeze. He’s only six years my junior.”

Genna huffed and swatted Barristan hard in the arm. “He isn’t half as reckless as you. Valyria!”

_Gods. Back to Valyria again._

“You’re a very confusing woman. You tell me to protect the boy, but then I protect the boy and you yell at me.” 

“Well can you not find a way to protect him that doesn't place either of you in harm's way!? Aren’t you meant to be some type of strategist?”

Barristan gaped as they walked. “I am a Kinsguard. Being placed in harm's way is literally what the role entails doing. I’m not a strategist. I’m just a knight.”

“Jaime is a strategist! He knows how to command an army and devise military plans.” Genna narrowed her eyes. The frustration in her voice was clear, but Barristan hardly knew how to respond.

“He grew up with your brother showing him how to lead a kingdom and an army. Most knights don’t have that. We just… fight. I’m merely from a small vassal in the Stormlands. Our affairs are as dull as you find my House colors to be.”

They ascended the steps of the White Sword Tower in silence. Only their footsteps could be heard as they neared Barristan’s study.

_Why is she still following me? Does she mean to scold me more?_

Abruptly, Genna tugged Barristan into his study and slammed the door. “You think my brother taught Jaime anything _remotely_ useful?” 

_A scolding it is._

Barristan stared at Genna in silence. He knew quite little about Jaime’s upbringing except that he squired for Lord Sumner for four years prior to earning his knighthood.

“My brother taught Jaime that emotions are a weakness. He chastised Jaime for crying when Joanna died; told him that his tears would not bring her back, and would only show weakness to the vassals. The boy was 7! My brother taught Jaime that opinions only matter if they’re from his lips; that ‘lions don’t concern themselves with the opinion of sheep’. It never stopped the hurt and bitterness when they called Jaime ‘Kingslayer’, but Tywin cared little because Jaime’s actions benefited _his_ late arrival in Robert’s rebellion. No wonder Jaime and Brienne relate so well! I’ve got Tywin saying that crap, and Selwyn over there telling Brienne that ‘words are wind’! The old fools ruined them! At least Selwyn loves his child. The same cannot be said for my brother. He loved the legacy Jaime brought him, but not the boy himself.”

Genna grumbled more to herself than Barristan before continuing. Her voice was less angry and more sorrowful when she spoke again. “My brother taught Jaime that he is an idiot. Jaime struggled to read as a child, so Tywin locked him in a room for hours on end until he could make sense of the letters. Tyrion was reading the history of our House in the library while Jaime sat bitterly tracing his name at a desk with Tywin berating the boy from over his shoulder. My brother constantly told Jaime that it was time for him to become the man he was meant to be, as if the man he already is was not enough. If my nephew has learned anything of strategy or fighting or honor, it was from knights like you. Not Tywin. Perhaps that is why Jaime looks at you like you’re his father. He follows you about acting as though he cares little, but it would crush him if you were disappointed. He was five-and-ten when he came here; not even a man grown. So just… don’t die. He needs you.”

Barristan felt terribly hearing it all, but he wasn’t certain what to say. With a small nod, Barristan agreed. “I’ll not die _intentionally_ , but he would hardly be alone if I do. He has you, Brienne, Rhaella, Tyrion, and more kin than I can keep track of. There are far too many Lannisters in this capital as we speak.”

Taking off his pauldrons and breastplate, Barristan placed it down on the corner table. His body was sore from the fighting and fatigue was starting to set in. When he turned around, Genna was still standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. 

“He isn’t the only one who needs you around.” Genna’s voice sounded strained as she said the words. 

With a light laugh, Barristan nodded his head in feigned agreement. “Yes. The king needs me... for now. I’ll lose my skill soon enough.” _Gods. What will I do then when I’m too old to swing a sword? In Kingsguard past, I was to serve for life. Now we serve terms. They’ll not want me around. Where will I go? I’ve no coin nor possessions._

The thought was distressing and Barristan needed to busy himself. Until Brienne and Daenerys were safely returned from battle, he could not rest. Moving towards the fireplace, Barristan stoked the fire and added more wood. The chill from the battle had sunk into his bones.

“Rhaella needs you.” Genna seemed to be reaching for something, anything to mollify Barristan and he hated it.

“She has Lord Selwyn.”

“Brienne needs you.” Again, Genna tried to offer comfort.

“The girl now has more family, both blood and chosen, than I have years left to my life.”

Standing from where he was crouched, Barristan moved towards his desk. There was paperwork that should serve as sufficient distraction until Barristan could rest easy knowing that Brienne and Daenerys were well. 

As Barristan rounded his desk, Genna grabbed his jerkin and tugged. “I need you!”

“What for? To ruin your chance at love with more suitors? You’ve made it clear that you’ve little need from me.”

Barristan tried to move once more, but Genna tugged hader. “You saved me and Rhaella tonight. You were my friend! I was starting to think… perhaps my best friend. You should have told me not to take the supper with Lord Leyton instead of doing _that_.”

Frustration for things he could not change swelled within Barristan. “I apologized for that.”

“Well why didn’t you tell me!? Why didn’t you simply ignore him when he asked for advice!?” Genna tightened her grip to prevent Barristan from stepping away. As Barristan opened his mouth to speak, a warning finger flew at his face. “Do not tell me because you don’t think he was right for me. I want to know why you didn’t just tell me that _before_ I accepted his offer.”

Barristan dragged his hands over his face in frustration. “Why does it matter? I’ve apologized.”

The woman was relentless and would not drop the subject. She pushed Barristan to his breaking point when she asked again.

“You were my friend! I have a right to know!”

In a moment of frustration, Barristan’s filter abandoned him. “Because I was jealous!”

Genna’s vexed expression melted away. Her brow raised and a coy smile spread across her lips. “Barristan Selmy was jealous of Lord Leyton Hightower.”

Barristan could feel his face heat and he stammered in denial. “I didn’t mean…” 

Unable to finish his own thought, Barristan backed away. He wanted to flee the space, but it was his study. 

_Why is she still here? Why won’t she leave me be? She’s made her point and now I look like a fool._

“You didn’t mean what?” Genna raised a challenging brow. It was the look that always sparked something in Barristan. He could never lie to Genna, but that look always struck him as an open challenge against his bravery, and Barristan could not abide it. “Come now, Barristan. I thought they called you _bold_.”

It was a heated mix of anger and desire that drove Barristan forward. His words may have been craven, but his actions were not. He had never kissed anyone before, and he immediately regretted the approach. Uncertainty won out as Barristan wasn’t certain what to do with his hands or lips.

Stepping back, Barristan stood slack jawed and hung his head to the floor. “I’m sorry… I”

“Finally, you dolt!” Genna’s words were half reprimand, half triumphant as she grabbed his face and tugged him towards her. Her lips were more experienced and wasted no time demonstrating what Barristan was meant to do. Her fingers reached up to keep his head close; her nails grazing the back of his neck. The sensation went straight to Barristan’s cock. 

Reaching out with his left hand to steady himself on the desk, Barristan wrapped his right arm around Genna. The moment she pulled him closer and felt his desire for her, she hummed in delight. With her left hand still anchoring him in place, Genna’s right worked at the laces of his breeches.

Barristan broke the kiss; his eyes wide. “What are you…”

At the feel of Genna’s hand on his cock, any protest died on Barristan’s lips. It was another first for Barristan to have a hand not his own wrapped around his cock. The feeling was entirely different and infinitely better. Pulling his head back towards her, Genna renewed the kiss as her hand did things that Barristan thought to die without experiencing. 

Then the door opened and Barristan was reminded why such bliss could never be. The horror on Jaime’s face was clear, and even Genna seemed mortified by the act they were caught in.

When Jaime left, Barristan immediately apologized and laced up his breeches. “I’m sorry. That won’t happen again. I didn’t mean…” _To shame you._

The look on Genna’s face was one of confusion. “What won’t happen again!?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Genna snorted at the words and shook her head in disgust. “Just a bit of madness then. Come talk to me when you know what you want, Selmy.” 

  
  


Now as Barristan sat in the hall, he savored the feel of Genna’s body pressed close. He had to will away indecent thoughts that would only lead to an awkward situation in his breeches. 

The hall was loud and stifling. More people crammed inside than had attended Jon’s wedding feast two years prior. From the side entry, Barristan saw Jaime and Brienne enter hurriedly with a peeved-looking Maester Harmon at their backs.

Moving quickly to the table, Jaime sat opposite Barristan and Genna with Brienne close at this side. Before wine could be passed to them by Brynden, Genna growled at the young pair.

“Where have you been!? Why was Maester Harmon with you? By the gods, if you two were sparring...”

At her words, a fierce blush spread across Brienne’s face and Jaime’s smile stretched wide. He spoke with amusement heavy in his tone. 

“ _Sparring_. Yes, that’s it. Popped a stitch or two that needed tending.”

The implication was clear and Barristan groaned in distaste. Despite the lack of propriety for their tardiness, the other sworn brothers guffawed and commended their siblings on their _dedication_ to their craft.

Not long after, Jon stood and brought the crowded hall to attention. “This morning, we said goodbye to our loved ones; men, women, and children not yet grown. They fought bravely to ensure we could live on. Tonight though, we celebrate life. Everyone here had a role to play in defeating death, though I would be remiss in not commending our Kingsguard. The seven who faced death. The Kingsguard stood bravely in defense of the realm. Between them, they killed 26 White Walkers and the Night King!”

The crowd erupted into loud cheers and hands pounded wooden tables excitedly. At his side, Barristan felt Genna lean into him. A proud smile lined her face as she clapped in reply.

When the noise died down. Jon glanced at the Kingsguard table and smiled. “When I took the throne, I wanted to form a Kingsguard modeled after Ser Jaime’s actions to move against deadly sovereigns. I wanted a Kingsguard to defend the realm as much as the crown. I wanted the best we had to stand against our greatest threats.” Jon’s smile dropped and his voice turned grave. “We lost Ser Balon, but not before he killed a White Walker.”

The crowd grew silent at the words. A somber air filled the hall before Jon continued, his voice rising with each proclamation. “Ser Brynden also killed a White Walker. Ser Loras killed _two_ White Walkers. Ser Sandor killed _four_ White Walkers!”

The crowd began to stir as Jon’s voice grew louder and louder. His smile widened with each name. “Ser Brienne killed _seven_ White Walkers! Ser Jaime killed _seven_ White Walkers! Our Lord Commander, Ser Barristan, killed four White Walkers _before_ removing the Night King’s head from his shoulders!”

At the words, those assembled leapt from their seats cheering, clapping, and banging. The attention on them made Barristan’s neck heat. He was not accustomed to the Kingsguard being recognized in such a manner for merely doing what they vowed to. Genna, like the rest of the hall, had stood to cheer on the brothers, but the Kingsguard all sat in stunned silence.

_I just wish Balon was here._

As everyone quieted, Jon raised his cup. “To life!”

The feast got underway with staff passing around platters of food and jugs of wine. Their own table grew rowdy as the brothers relaxed for the first time in over a week. The battle had only been three days prior, but the Kingsguard looked infinitely better than the first day following the Night King’s fall.

Glancing at Jaime and Brienne, Barristan smirked. “I don’t recall the pair of you killing _that many_ more White Walkers than me.”

Loras snorted and shook his head. “They got a head start on most of us! The dragon took them into the field.”

The Hound, Jaime, and Brienne began to protest and defend their honor, but soon they were distracted. People approached the table to thank and speak with the Kingsguard. Across the table, Barristan laughed at how Brienne cowered at the praise, and Jaime ate it up. His arm draped over Brienne’s shoulders and he whispered into her ear throughout the night. They were always touching one another. It seemed to Barristan that they feared the world might end if they were not.

_Gods, let me sleep through the ruckus they’re to make this evening. They’ll be paying a few visits to Maester Harmon at this rate._

Soon the Free Folk officers arrived at the table. They, like most, were covered in bruises and gashes. Yvonn reached across Genna to place a warm hand in Barristan’s arm. “Thank you. I thought it would be you or your son.”

 _My what?_ Shaking his head in refute, Barristan began to speak. “Oh… he’s not…”

Brynden interrupted and shouted down the table as he leaned over Loras. “Like father, like son! Kingslayers, the pair!” 

As Yvonn again squeezed Barristan’s arm in thanks, Genna’s hand came to his neck; her thumb stroking his heated skin. “Yes, our southern knights are of the highest quality. I hear you all fought well. Thank you.” 

If Barristan didn’t know any better, he would think Genna’s behavior territorial. Barristan knew he had ruined any chance with Genna, however. Even if he had not, Barristan could not risk upsetting Jaime over pursuit of the younger knight’s aunt. Not that it mattered. Genna herself described it as madness. 

Yvonn beamed at the praise and nodded at Genna. “Thank you. We all fought hard. This group is quite impressive though. I’ve seen them train.” The woman’s eyes appraised the table and lingered on Sandor.

Genna’s body shifted and she leaned her back against Barristan as though a barrier. “Yes, they are. That is my nephew and my goodniece.”

Genna’s finger pointed at Brienne and Jaime. With a smirk at Genna, Jaime spoke teasingly in reply. “We all have our burdens to bear.”

Confusion clouded Yvonn's face and eyes. She smiled politely and glanced back at Genna. “So the Lord Commander is your brother? You have an impressive family!”

“My brother!? Oh gods, no!”

Yvonn’s brows knitted in confusion. “They call them Ser Father and Ser Son. I just assumed.”

“Jaime is my dead brother’s son. My brother was a wonderful sibling, but a shit father. Barristan has done a far better job with Jaime than Tywin ever could.”

Barristan grimaced at the words. He didn’t feel as though he had done anything of note for Jaime. Yes, he tried to make up for disregard and neglect during Jaime’s earliest days in the Kingsguard, but he still didn’t feel it warranted such praise from Genna.

Across the table, Jaime and Brienne were speaking with Loras. The youngest of the three knights had a renewed spark in his eyes after spend days walking around in a daze. The maester closely monitored Loras’ head wound, and Harmon was pleased with the recovery.

A hard elbow caught Barristan’s side. “Did you hear me?” Genna’s expecting eyes bored a hole into Barristan’s.

“I’m sorry. What?”

Genna raised a challenging brow. “Yvonn’s friend here has asked me to dance.”

The Lord Commander glanced at the man at Yvonn’s side. Barristan had spoken to the Wildling on several occasions. The man was a skilled fighter and struck Barristan as a kind, albeit peculiar, warrior.

Barristan shrugged in confusion and stared at Genna. With a dramatic sigh, she leaned in and whispered. “He thinks we are a couple and does not wish to offend you.”

Glancing across the table, a wave of guilt hit Barristan as he looked at Jaime. With despondent eyes, Barristan glanced at the man standing beside Yvonn. “We’re not.”

The return expression from Genna was difficult to read, but it was clear the answer displeased her. They had not spoken since Jaime found them in the study. Avoidance was the only way that Barristan knew to manage feelings of the heart. When Genna left to walk towards the dance floor, Yvonn leaned onto the table.

“A dance?” Barristan followed her gaze to Sandor. The scowling knight with nasty bruises and a broken nose furrowed his brows. Sandor glanced over his shoulder as though the words were meant for someone else.

“You talking to me?” Sandor’s voice was disbelieving as he glanced back at Yvonn. 

Yvonn blushed in reply; a reaction Barristan did not think a Wildling capable of. They were a forward people who had no reservations speaking to carnal want and physical interest. “We don’t much dance in the true north, but you southerners make it look fun enough. I prefer ale though.”

At the words, Sandor straightened. “I prefer ale and fighting more than ale and dancing.”

Yvonn’s eyes sparkled at the words. “Perhaps some ale and a spar in the yards then?”

Barristan had never seen the Hound move so quickly. He bit back a laugh as the pair walked from the hall like children with a new toy. Yvonn was not as tall as Brienne, but still taller than most women. She was a fierce warrior with a foul mouth in the yards. Barristan considered that she and the Hound would make a fine pair.

As Barristan’s eyes moved away from the Hound and Yvonn, he saw Genna and the Wildling officer on the dance floor. Genna was chuckling at the man’s poor attempt to dance, but she was patient and showed him the moves. No matter the setting, Genna always found something to laugh about. Barristan wished he could be the one to laugh with her, but instead, he looked away and reached for the wine cup before him.

Across the table, Brynden and Loras had struck up a conversation as Brienne and Jaime japed together. It was good to see his comrades enjoying themselves so much; particularly Jaime and Brienne. There was no threat to their young family any longer. Rhaella would be back in their arms soon, and they could truly live without fear of a looming threat.

Brienne whispered something into Jaime’s ear. Whatever she said made him huff and roll his eyes, but she moved away quickly towards the Stormlands' table. Jaime tapped the table with his fingers before looking at the dance floor. With a heavy sigh, he spoke to seemingly no one.

“She needs someone proper to dance with.” 

Barristan hummed in confusion; his eyes darting to Jaime.

"My aunt. That Wildling has no idea what he's doing."

Barristan stared into his wine cup and shrugged. “You could offer your aunt a dance.”

Jaime rubbed at his forehead in reply before glancing around the hall. “She doesn’t want a dance with her nephew. She would rather a dance with someone she fancies.”

Appraising the hall, Barristan saw a handful of suitable lords and knights similar in age to him and Genna. “There are a number of eligible men here who will no doubt ask her for a dance.”

Jaime’s fingers picked at the wooden grain of the table. His eyes remained fixed on Genna as he spoke. “I’ve only ever seen her truly enjoy a dance with you. Anyone else she just plasters that awful, fake smile to her face. Like that one…”

Jaime’s chin inclined towards Genna and the Wildling officer. They had finally fallen into a rhythm as they danced, and Genna’s formal, courtly smile was fixed in place. She was enjoying herself as much as she would enjoy a dance with Lord Leyton.

“I’ll not touch her, Jaime. I meant my words.” Barristan prayed to the gods that Jaime would drop the subject. The younger knight's eyes moved slowly towards Brienne who seemed to scold him from afar.

“Perhaps I overreacted. It was just unexpected is all.” Jaime shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Before he continued, he took a deep breath and glanced at Genna. “I want her to be happy. Genuinely happy. Until _that_ night, I never noticed it… the way she looks at you that is. The past two years she has been miserable. Tyrion thought as much too, but we couldn’t understand why, and she refused to give it voice. This past week though, every time I look at her, she’s staring at you. You’re usually staring at some inanimate object as though willing it to swallow you whole.”

Barristan grimaced at the words. True to Jaime’s statement, he had been avoiding more than conversation with Genna. It hurt being around someone that he longed for, but could not have. In a way, it reminded Barristan of his affections for Ashara so many years ago.

Clearing his throat, Jaime’s tone was contemplative when he spoke again. “The whole Cersei thing was properly fucked up, but by joining the Kingsguard and chasing after her, Tywin couldn’t arrange some awful marriage for me. The Kingsguard saved me for Brienne. Perhaps… perhaps the Kingsguard did the same for you. Maybe you were meant for my aunt, but Genna had to find a way to unload Emmon first.”

Barristan’s eyes snapped to Jaime at the words. He was staring intently at the stem of his wine cup and twirling it absently between his fingers. “It isn’t just Genna who I wish to see happy. I want you to be too. Everyone deserves love. You should save her from whatever _that_ is.”

Jaime’s nose scrunched in distaste as he glanced back at Genna and the Wilding. The man was beginning to step on Genna’s feet as they moved alongside the other couples. 

Barristan felt his cheeks heat at the exposing conversation with Jaime. “I… suppose the knightly thing to do is to save her feet from that assault.”

Jaime snorted and nodded emphatically. “Or to save that Wildling from her. If he does that one more time, I think she might gut him with his own dagger.”

Without another word, Jaime left the table and tugged Brienne onto the dance floor. He had an amused expression on his face when they neared Genna and the Wildling. It was clear to Barristan that Jaime was teasing Genna when the Wildling wasn’t looking.

Standing from his seat, Barristan moved slowly towards Genna and her dance partner. On approach, he bit his lip and tried to catch the couple’s eye. When they noticed him, Barristan spoke politely to the man. 

“Can I steal her from you?”

The man’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t think you southerners stole your brides?”

Barristan’s eyes went wide and he looked questioningly at Genna. She guffawed loudly at Barristan’s confused expression. Shaking her head in refute as mirth shone in her eyes, Genna patted the man’s arm. “It means something different here than up north. He means to dance with me for a bit.”

The Wildling’s eyes widened in understanding. He smiled and backed away. “Yes, yes. Go on.”

Reaching out for Genna, Barristan mumbled for her ears only. “What was that about?”

“I’ll explain later. They have some strange customs north of the Wall. Whatever remains of the Wall that is.”

As they moved slowly around the dance floor with Jaime and Brienne nearby, Genna glanced up at Barristan with a questioning expression on her face. “If you _didn’t_ want Lord Leyton to earn my foot in his ass, what would have you advised him?”

Barristan swallowed thickly and felt his stomach drop. He was not keen on exposing his heart in the middle of the feast with thousands around them. Fortunately, the music was loud, and the crowd louder. Speaking for Genna’s ears only, Barristan gave as honest an answer as he could.

“He asked about your favorite flowers and sweets. I would have told him to bring tulips and lemon cakes. The tulips would have to be a colorful shade. As for after supper, I would have told him the beach if you finished before sunset, but the gardens if not.”

Genna snorted and shook her head. “You’re awful. I can’t believe you did that.”

Barristan felt a twinge of irritation at the memory of the day. “Well he didn’t ask the correct questions.” 

Genna’s head tilted in question. “What do you mean?”

A heavy sigh pushed past Barristan’s lips as his eyes wandered to Jaime and Brienne. They had a comfort with one another that was unlike most couples. Neither held back nor seemed afraid to be vulnerable with the other. Each sought to make the other happy; not out of duty or selfish intent, but genuine desire. That was what Barristan wanted for Genna. In his daydreams, Barristan hoped to be that for her, but he understood how unlikely it was.

“Leyton wanted to win your hand quickly, with little effort and inconvenience to himself. Getting to know you didn’t seem top of mind. He should have asked what you like. What makes you happy.”

A warm hand came to Barristan’s cheek and turned his face towards her. “And you think you could have given him _that_ advice?” 

Barristan felt his face flame for what seemed the hundredth time that night. He had exchanged letters with Genna for two years prior to her casting him out from her life. He spent moons in King's Landing with her before she returned west. He listened intently every time Genna spoke; whether in private or among others. 

Clearing his throat, Barristan tried to gather his thoughts. His palms began to sweat as his nerves kicked in. Though his reply was slow and uncertain to begin, it grew more confident as he went. The truth spilled from his lips as though water breaking through a dam. “Well… supper isn’t your favorite meal. You prefer breaking your fast with fruits and sweet bread, but eating with _only_ him wouldn’t be ideal. Family means everything to you, so he should have broken his fast with you _and_ the boys. The flowers would make you smile, but mostly out of courtesy. You prefer looking at flowers in the garden since picking them only shortens their lifespan. If he wanted a genuine smile, he should have taken you to that part of the garden you like when the stars are out. The section with that awful garden arbor. I never found it very comfortable, but then again I was used as your cushion each time. But… that is when you smile truly, and it just might be brighter than the moon.”

Barristan realized he was rambling and shook his head as though clearing away a stream of maddened thoughts. When he glanced at Genna, Barristan noticed that she was staring at him with a peculiar expression on her face. Self-consciousness spread through his body as Barristan loosened his grip on Genna and stepped backwards. “Apologies. That was…” _too much_.

“Perfect. I would have enjoyed that very much, though not with Lord Leyton.” The way Genna looked at Barristan when she spoke made his stomach roll as rough seas might toss about a ship. Before he could dwell on it, Genna grabbed his hand and tugged him from the hall. 

“Genna, the feast.” Barristan’s eyes darted back towards the dance floor. Jaime had noticed their retreat; his face concerned, but Brienne tugged his head towards her and scolded him. Without reply, Genna pulled Barristan through the halls and towards the White Sword Tower. 

Barristan’s mind was spinning as Genna silently pulled him forward by the hand. When she directed them to his chambers, Barristan began to panic. Stepping into the room, Genna shut the door behind them and stared at Barristan as though he was a White Walker.

“Why did you say all that?”

The question caught Barristan unaware. His brows furrowed and his lips parted, but no sound came out. Before he found his words, Genna took a step forward and grabbed his chin.

“How can you say things like that one moment, and then the next, state regret over touching me?”

At the question, Barristan found himself staring at Genna in disbelief. “I don’t regret touching you. Only the shame it brought you.” 

“Shaming me? Do I strike you as someone who would partake in anything that I deem shameful?” Genna’s brows were knitted in confusion as she stared into his eyes. It felt to Barristan as though Genna was trying to see into the depths of his heart, and he hated the vulnerability of it. 

Barristan recalled the look on Genna’s face when Jaime walked in on them. He knew the look well-enough. “My actions upset you and Jaime. I don’t wish to do that.”

At the words, Genna snorted. “You think I care how my nephew feels about my personal affairs? No aunt wants her nephew seeing her in such a state. I may be bold, but I’m not _that_ bold. And as for him, I care little if he would wish to deny me such things. Imagine if I told him not to kiss Brienne because seeing it made me uncomfortable! The boy would laugh in my face and pull the girl into the most unnecessarily passionate kiss just to vex me!” 

Barristan's body acted on its own accord. Lowering his head, Barristan pressed his lips to Genna’s. Her hands grabbed hard at his jerkin, holding him in place.

As they deepened the kiss, Barristan felt Genna forcing him backwards. His feet stumbled blindly until his knees hit the back of the bed. At the force they were moving, Barristan fell into a seated position on the edge of the bed, and Genna wasted no time straddling his lap. 

Cupping Genna’s face in his hands, Barristan pulled her close as his lips searched for hers. The feel of their lips touching made Barristan feel as though he was set ablaze by the dragons. His cock was already responding when Genna’s hands began to work the laces of his breeches. When she reached for his cock, Barristan stiffened.

“I can’t.”

With a sly smile, Genna’s hand stroked Barristan’s length. “It feels like you can.”

“My vows. I… I can’t.” Barristan squeezed his eyes shut. The feel of Genna’s hand on his skin was incredible, and his body hated him for denying the touch.

Genna leaned back and narrowed her eyes at Barristan. “Your vows? Which vows? Last I checked, my nephew took the same vows, yet he has a wife and a babe.”

Barristan wanted more than he could form words to describe, but he was afraid to give them voice. He had recognized some time ago that what he felt for Genna was love, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak it aloud. The thought of Genna leaving felt too assured, and Barristan knew he couldn’t handle losing such a love.

Thinking as quickly as he could given all the blood had rushed south, Barristan blathered a string of nonsensical reasons why he couldn’t. “I’ve never… My… the children. Jaime won’t appreciate it.”

“You believe that the man who my nephew fancies his father, won’t appreciate him bedding the woman who practically raised him?”

Genna rolled her eyes when Barristan had no reply. Her hands pushed back his jerkin gently to avoid tugging at the stitches on his right arm. As the jerkin piled behind Barristan, it revealed him to be wearing one of the tunics that Genna had given him. It felt too exposing to his heart. 

Genna paused at the sight of the gifted tunic. A soft smile spread across her face. “The tunic I sent. You wore it.” Raising a brow, Genna spoke challengingly. “What of the other I gave you.”

Barristan’s face flushed as he considered the other tunic recently worn. “Dirty.”

An unimpressed expression lined Genna’s face and she swatted his arm. “Did you throw it out!?”

“I wore it in battle.”

Genna’s jaw went slack. She was rarely silenced or stunned, but she was then. Her expression softened, but before another word could be spoken, Genna kissed him hard.

Hands tugged away layers until Barristan was only in his loosened breeches and boots. Genna’s stood to pull down her smallclothes before moving back onto Barristan’s lap.

“I don’t want a fuck.” Barristan’s voice was raspy as Genna ground against him.

“Nor I. You want love. I do believe I said the same.” Genna’s tone was slightly clipped before her lips crashed back into his.

_Was that an admission of love? Only Genna would find a way to reprimand me while admitting to loving me._

Genna lifted on her knees and began to lower herself onto him. A slight panic coursed through Barristan and his hands grabbed at her hips. “Wait!”

Genna’s eyes went wide and hurt shone below the surface. 

“I… I’ve never done this before.” Embarrassment burned Barristan’s cheeks at the admission. His eyes darted away, and he thought it laughable how pathetic Barristan the Bold turned out to be in the privacy of his own chambers.

Hurt gave way to understanding and Genna’s hands cupped his face. “Well I’ve never been with a Kingsguard before, so we can figure this out together.”

Barristan snorted at the words. Even in a situation that would see most women laughing at him, Genna found a way to laugh with him. With a gentle kiss to his lips, Genna sank down and fully sheathed Barristan.

Slowly, she began to ride him. Barristan gripped her hips as though an anchor at sea. The feeling was immensely pleasurable, and Barristan wondered at how he had not pursued love sooner. Genna’s arms wrapped around Barristan’s shoulders and held him close as her lips pressed warm and firm to his.

Barristans’s fingers itched to touch other parts of Genna, but he felt paralyzed. The feeling was incredible and he didn’t wish to ruin the moment with inexperienced hands. As if sensing his inner turmoil, Genna’s lips left his.

“Touch me you old fool.”

Barristan grumbled at the words. “Stop ordering me about.”

Genna slammed down on top of Barristan; the sensation sending an intense pleasure through his body. Reaching forward with his right hand, Barristan grabbed Genna’s face and pulled her lips back to his. With an unfamiliar left hand, Barristan dragged his fingers across Genna’s hip to her middle. While he had never touched a woman before, he had some idea. Being a soldier and knight for so many years, it was impossible to ignore the chatter of men who took women to bed.

At his touch, Genna trembled and moaned into his mouth. The reaction heightened Barristan’s arousal. Being his first time, Barristan knew he wasn’t going to last long. His body began to tighten, and he felt his release approaching.

Their breathing shallowed as both neared climax. When Barristan felt Genna's inner walls tighten in response, it sent him over the edge. 

In a panic, Barristan jerked his head back and realized he needed to pull out, but it was too late. Embarrassment and worry replaced pleasure as Barristan stammered; his breathing labored. “I’m sorry. I… I'll get you moon tea.”

Genna laughed loudly and held Barristan close. “If I need moon tea at my age, then I’m convinced the gods are men.”

_Right. Of course. Gods we’re old._

A light laughter rumbled in Barristan’s chest. “Good. I think the children have used it all.”

The pair chuckled together, but Barristan felt Genna lift and move from atop him. He was startled at the loss of connection and hated it immediately. Before he could stop her, Genna grimaced and rubbed her knees.

“I’m too old for such a position. I refuse to do all the work each time! Come to bed. Lets see how well you recover.”

An immediate warmth spread through Barristan at the realization that Genna was not leaving. They finished disrobing before slipping under the silks. Genna draped her leg over Barristan and placed her head on his chest; her long, golden hair spilled out from the braid she had undone. The smell of her hair was uniquely Genna, and Barristan played with the strands absently.

For some time, they lay comfortably together. When Barristan felt himself responding once more to Genna’s more tantalizing touch, he showed her what a quick learner he was.

The next morning, Barristan awoke feeling better rested than he had in decades. Genna was sleeping soundly in his arms, and Barristan mused that he had done with Genna the very thing he once scolded Jaime for doing before wedding Brienne.

_I suppose I now understand why he couldn’t wait. That was… quite nice. Very nice. Fucking delightful._

When at last Genna woke for the day, they dressed and made their way to the small dining room in the White Sword Tower to break their fast. It was late morning, though most castle occupants were still asleep from the prior night’s celebration. Barristan wondered if there would even be staff awake to offer food. They walked in to find a very tired looking Jaime and Brienne struggling to remain awake at the table. It then occurred to Barristan that Brienne had guard duty starting in an hour.

Barristan took a seat opposite the younger couple. “Good morning.”

Genna moved into the seat beside Barristan and smirked at Jaime and Brienne. They both offered sleepy smiles and nodded in reply. When a staff member came over, she whispered softly to Brienne.

“I’m sorry Ser Brienne, but… we’re out of moon tea.”

Whatever fog Brienne was in immediately lifted at the words. She looked to Jaime in a panic, but she was met with little more than muffled laughter.

“You knew!?” Brienne smacked Jaime hard on the arm; her face setting into a scowl.

“Ow! What!?”

Glancing across the table in embarrassment, Brienne lowered her voice, but Barristan could hear the words. “You knew there was no moon tea?”

Jaime feigned innocence and shrugged. “After Harmon scolded us last night, he informed me there was no more and to take it easy. What was I to do?”

Brienne spoke in a whisper through gritted teeth. “Spill outside.”

“And throw you off the bed? I seem to recall that you were rather aggressive as you rode…”

Brienne’s hand flew to his mouth. Her expression was aghast “Stop it!”

Barristan looked to his plate and tried to hide his laughter. Their mirth was contagious as they squabbled playfully, and Barristan found his right hand reaching for Genna’s left under the table. She smiled widely in reply and squeezed his hand. 

“Such a demanding princess. I’ll go into the city and get some while you’re on shift.” Jaime’s tone aimed to pacify Brienne, but it was evident that she was not truly angry. 

As they returned to the meal before them, Barristan couldn’t bring himself to let go of Genna’s hand. Instead, he picked up his fork with his left hand. Only a moment later, Jaime’s voice called out teasingly.

“Huh. That is interesting.” Barristan looked up and saw Jaime staring at him with a smirk on his face. The younger knight’s arms crossed as he feigned intrigue. Jaime’s next words echoed Barristan’s own from years ago at Winterfell. “I daresay I’ve never seen a right handed man eat with his left.”

Barristan bit his lip and threw Jaime’s own reply from years ago back at him. “Perhaps that’s why I’m so impressive with a sword? I train both hands for combat. Perhaps you’ve never noticed.”


	78. Jaime XXXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big time jump here. Jaime and Brienne make a decision for their family.

“So that’s it then…” A sad smile lined Jon’s face as he looked between Jaime and Brienne. 

“Not that four children in the White Sword Tower felt reasonable, but the fifth… it has been a lot.” Brienne paused and sighed heavily. “It is a lot to ask the brothers to endure.”

Nodding in understanding, the king laughed lightly. Jon’s voice was teasing as he glanced at Jaime. “So I’m to lose my best three Kingsguard. Yet again, Ser Jaime’s inability to keep his breeches on proves problematic for the realm.” 

“I am nothing if not problematic,  _ your Grace _ .” Jaime was certain to infuse ample sarcasm at use of Jon’s least favorite title; ‘your grace’. 

One year prior, Brienne birthed their fifth child in the White Sword Tower; a healthy boy named Arthur. Like their other children, Arthur had not been planned. True to Maester Harmon’s words, moon tea was not a viable long-term solution. It certainly hadn’t prevented the others; eight-year-old twins boys and a five year old girl. 

Jon sighed, but smiled widely. “You’ve done more for me and the realms than most knights could do in a lifetime. I thank you for it, truly. I’ll expect ample visits of course. I wish for my cousins to play with their kin. Also, I need to spar with my aunt. I’ll get the better of her one day.”

Jaime smiled widely as his eyes darted to Jon’s six-year-old son, Rhaegar, and two-year-old son, Oberyn, playing together in the corner. 

“Yes, I imagine when funeral stones cover my eyes, you’ll dance circles around me.” Brienne smirked. She had learned much from House Lannister over the years. She would never be known as a witty woman, but she was trying. 

Standing from his seat, Jon embraced Brienne. “So we have one year to find suitable replacements. I’ll have to speak with Ser Barristasn about who he would recommend for Lord Commander.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne. It was only the night prior that Brienne admitted to her arrangement with Jon and Selwyn. Jaime had been elated and appreciative of her consideration. With a teasing voice, Jon’s eyes darted to Jaime. 

“And I thank you for getting Lady Genna out of the Keep as a result. A final act of valor to save those of us living here.”

_ Gods. Lets hope Brienne reminded Selwyn that he already agreed to this, even if it was before Ser Barristan found himself with a wife. A wife who can be a bit… overbearing.  _

Just a moon turn after the dead fell, Barristan and Genna had married in a small ceremony with only the Kingsguard, Jon, Arianne, Tyrion, Olenna, and Rhaella in attendance. They were an older couple who only wed for love, and not to further a line. As such, they did not want a grand show of it. Just exchanged vows and their family with them. Of course, Jon wanted something grand and to make a formal announcement to the kingdoms, but the older couple refused. They didn’t want any such attention. 

Further, Barristan did not want Genna’s reputation tarnished if word got out that she was sharing a bed with a man out of wedlock. Jaime had laughed at Barristan’s concern. His aunt, like Tywin, had little regard for the opinions of others. Still, Jaime appreciated Barristan’s consideration for her reputation where Genna waved it off.

Of course, there was also the matter of  _ informing  _ Barristan that he would be leaving. 

“We uh… actually need to tell Ser Barristan that he’ll be leaving when his second term ends.” Brienne smiled tightly following the admission. With a knowing expression, Jon squeezed her arm. 

“Good luck,  _ aunt _ .”

As they stepped into the hallway, Jaime nodded at Ser Nymeria. Jaime recalled the search for Balon’s replacement nine years prior as they interviewed candidates. Ordinarily, Barristan would have met with prospective Kingsguard alone. Jaime had invited himself along however, as he had already been in the room when most candidates entered. 

_ Nine years ago _

With the serious questions out of the way, Barristan addressed the elephant in the room. “And… what is your stance on small children?”

Ser Hyle shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Children? I did not realize that King Jon had any children.”

Barristan’s lips pursed together and he shook his head in refute. “Well as of right now, our king does not have any. I mean to say that we have one… here in the White Sword Tower.” 

The knight’s brows knitted in confusion; his finger pointed between Jaime and Barristan. “You have one?”

Both men answered at the same time as though the question was ridiculous. “Yes.”

With a deep breath, Ser Hyle nodded slowly. “I suppose there are all manner of families these days. Many children found themselves without parents after the Long Night. It’s kind of you to have taken one in.”

Jaime looked in confusion at Barristan before replying to the knight seated before them. “No… we had this one before all that.”

“Oh.” Ser Hyle’s mouth opened in surprise. “I mean… I had  _ heard, _ though I didn’t realize you had a babe. I congratulate you both on being the first of course.”

“The first what?” Barristan’s expression reflected Jaime’s confusion.

“The first Kingsguard to marry.”

Jaime struggled to contain his laughter as he looked to Barristan. The older knight’s expression was one of horror at the words, but Jaime couldn’t resist the opportunity.

Reaching out for Barristan’s arm, Jaime rubbed it gently. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetling.”

“What!?” Barristan was incredulous as he yanked his arm away. 

Sighing heavily, Jaime looked at Ser Hyle. “He hates when I call him ‘sweetling’. He prefers ‘love’.”

“Have you gone mad!?” Barristan glared at Jaime, but was too distracted to refute Ser Hyle’s assumptions. 

“Ssshhh… it’s alright. Don’t get so worked up. You know that ridiculous vein you get.” Jaime pointed to Barristan’s neck. Sure enough, it was swelling with anger. “It’s going to pop one of these days. Then where will I be without you?” Jaime pouted at the words before turning back to Ser Hyle.

Abruptly, the door to the study burst open and Rhaella ran inside laughing. Brienne rushed in quickly after her, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry! She got away from me and she knew you were both in here.”

Rhaella ran to Barristan and Jaime. “Daddy! Grandpa!”

As Brienne reached out to scoop up the energetic tot, Jaime smiled at the knight before him. “Ser Hyle, this is my wife, Ser Brienne Lannister. And that little bundle of energy is our daughter, Rhaella. As you can see, she’s  _ quite  _ calm. Having one of her better days really. Don’t worry though, she mostly barges into  _ occupied  _ rooms. She wouldn’t go into your assigned room if you’re not there.”

Ser Hyle looked at the flailing tot in horror. “So… she lives here then?”

“Sometimes we tie her to the roof.” Jaime spoke teasingly, but Barristan stood in offense. 

“Of course, she lives here!”

The knight shook his head and exhaled loudly. His hand stroked at his chin in contemplation. “I’m really not good with kids. In truth, I thought it a perk to the role… not being expected to have any or interact so much with them. I’m a firstborn, so my House is urging me to make a match.”

Jaime bit back a laugh at Barristan’s expression. His tone was laced with insult as he spoke. “The Kingsguard can marry and have family’s of their own. We don't cast out children here. They are as much a part of this brotherhood as the knights. My Rhaella will certainly be here.”

After Ser Hyel left and Brienne managed to drag Rhaella outside the room, Jaime turned to Barristan and raised a brow. “So, is that a ‘no’ on Ser Hyle, sweetling?”

“Shut up, Jaime!”

  
  


That candidate had in fact been a ‘no’. A resounding ‘no’. It took a dozen more candidates for Barristan to make his decision. In the war with the dead, several had been knighted for their bravery and actions in the field. One of those knighted was Nymeria Sand; a bastard of the deceased Prince Oberyn. 

Now as Jaime and Brienne made their way to Barristan’s study, Jaime was brimming with excitement to share plans. Jaime could hear loud laughter floating down the hallway as they approached. Jaime pushed open the door and smiled at the sight of Barristan giving Arthur dragonrides around the room while five-year-old Joanna played with her toy knights beside Genna.

“Oh good. For once it isn't Aunt Genna on top of Grandpa Barri.” 

At Jaime’s remark, the older couple glared. Genna reprimanded him from her spot on the floor. “Jaime! The children!”

_ That is not a denial, and I wish it were. _

As Barristan lowered Arthur to the ground, the young boy ran to Brienne. “Momma!” 

Genna struggled to stand from the floor and Barristan helped her up. With a sigh, Genna looked down at Joanna as she spoke to Jaime and Brienne “You missed it. Daenerys was here to drop off matching outfits for the twins. She brought another dress for Rhaella. I’ll show you, Brienne.”

Genna reached out for Brienne’s free arm as the young woman maneuvered Arthur onto her hip. With Joanna at their heels, the women left to see what Daenerys had brought. Jaime surmised he would need to tell Barristan the plans alone, though it was likely for the best. 

“More clothing with that awful Targaryen sigil, I presume?” 

Barristan sighed and scratched his head. “Yes. Rhaella and Balon were polite enough about it, but little Barristan seemed  _ uninspired _ .” 

Jaime watched as Barristan bit back a laugh. The older of the two twins, little Barristan, was a proud lion. Both boys looked the spitting image of Jaime, but little Barristan had his father’s personality on top of it. 

“Is everything alright with King Jon?” Barristan appraised Jaime as his breathing steaded from the game with Arthur.

Jaime’s face scrunched and he shrugged. “He isn’t entirely pleased, but he’ll survive.” 

“What’s wrong?”

Staring at Barristan, Jaime gave him a straight answer. “We informed him that three terms won't be feasible. I think it’s a bit much for everyone here.”

Barristan’s face fell at the words. He looked to the floor and struggled to find words. “Joanna and the twins are quite mature and practically tend to themselves. Do you need more space? Genna and I don’t mind helping the septa more too. The woman does seem a bit... overwhelmed.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime shook his head in refute. “If we just had Rhaella and the boys, it would be fine. Five is just  _ a lot  _ for the White Sword Tower, and Barristan needs to spend time on Tarth if he is to rule someday.”

While Jaime and Brienne had broken from tradition and named Rhaella as heir with Selwyn’s agreement, it was seeming more and more likely that rule would pass to little Barristan. Their eldest daughter wished to become a great knight like her parents and grandfather. Her skill was incredible and far eclipsed her peers. 

The young girl was already serving as squire to the Hound who was more like a second father to her. She expressed little desire to be a Lady and hold court on Tarth. Like Jaime and Barristan, she wished only to serve as a knight. Jaime recalled Rhaella’s words from a year prior.

_ “Can’t you have little Barri do it? It’s one tradition I don’t want to break; being heir despite having brothers. I don’t want to rule anything. I just want to be a great knight like you, mom, and Grandpa Barri.” _

Barristan sighed and nodded in understanding. “Will you visit King’s Landing? Perhaps your aunt and I can visit all of you if Jon gives me leave to do so.”

Jaime smirked at the words. “We’ve just ensured you’ll be given leave. Ample leave in fact. It’s a bit of a package deal, but if you insist on staying here, I’ll complain endlessly if I must take a third term. Island life would be far more relaxing.”

Barristan’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “What? I don’t follow.”

“Brienne already arranged for the three of us to go to Tarth together. She, King Jon, and Selwyn discussed it ten years ago, actually.”

Jaime watched as Barristan struggled to work it out in his head. “You… you want me and your aunt on Tarth.”

“At Evenfall to be more specific. I wouldn’t be adverse to putting Genna in some cottage though. She can get to be a bit much at times. Did the pair of you have different plans?”

Barristan’s jaw flapped for a moment as he looked around the room. “I… I have nothing to offer her. No lands nor coin. We just assumed to stay here until I’m unfit to serve, and then ask Kevan for a room at the Rock perhaps.”

Jaime’s nose scrunched in distaste. “Ugh, gods. You do not want to live with my uncle. Awful. Kevan has as much personality as Tywin did. Even once Tyrion and Sansa get there, you’ll be better off with us. You’ll come to Tarth.”

Tyrion and Sansa had wed six years ago after a long courtship. They had decided to remain in King’s Landing so that Tyrion could continue his role on the small council, and Sansa could be closer to her kin. The young couple already had two children, and Jaime was impressed how she took to motherhood. Of course, Jaime had enjoyed needling Ned about it when the couple first announced their betrothal.

_ ‘Your grandchildren are going to call me uncle. It’s just so… wonderful. In a way, it’s like you’re my mum and dad. Can I call you that? Dad?’ _

Now as Jaime stared at Barristan, he assumed the matter settled. Barristan only sighed and shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, but you needn’t offer us a space in your Keep out of pity.”

“No, I offer it out of need. Can you imagine how inconvenient my life will be when I need to take a boat to King’s Landing to train with you regularly? Then there are the children of course. They’ll just whine in my face incessantly about the distance from you. I can’t handle that. And why should Brienne and her father get to team up against me? That won’t do. It’s only fair that if she gets her father there, then I get you there.”

Barristan huffed a laugh at Jaime’s reasoning. Then his face fell. “I can’t even remember what it’s like to not live  _ here _ . I have purpose here, but I’d be of little use on Tarth.”

“That’s the best part. We can just enjoy the beach all day while Selwyn and Brienne deal with the awful parts. How horrible to have such responsibilities. We can train their men perhaps. They’re incredible with the bow, but the swordsmanship… it needs tending.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide at the idea. “I hear they face pirate attacks from time to time. We could devise a sound strategy for that.”

A boyish smile spread across Jaime’s face. “You know that brandy that Selwyn brings from time to time? I hear he has it by the barrel full in the cellars. We should ensure there is proper security protocol for that too.”

The sparkle in Barristan’s eyes made Jaime laugh. Both he and Barristan had enjoyed the bottles of brandy when Selwyn brought it. Nodding in reply, Barristan breamed at Jaime. “So we just need to try and survive the last year here, then.” 

* * *

  
  


One year later, Jaime stood shoulder to shoulder with Barristan at the rail of the ship. They both smiled widely as the ship tied off to the port at Tarth. Selwyn stood with his household guards along the dock; an expression of pride on his face. The older lord’s chest swelled and villagers gathered excitedly at the arrival of their heirs and the fabled knights. 

Of course, Selwyn had japed in his letter that Genna was  _ not  _ part of the deal. He teased that he would require ample coin to fund more brandy if he was to endure her pestering for the remainder of his days. 

Tyrion had japed that he would fund an entire winery on Tarth if Selwyn would spare him from having Genna at the Rock when the time came that he and Sansa took their small family west. Their firstborn, a four-year-old boy named Jaime, was proving as much a handful as his namesake. 

With Genna leaving for Tarth, Olenna had become more unbearable than usual. Both Olenna and Genna made plans to visit one another regularly. They promised to write to each other between visits, and Jon offered to take Olenna to Tarth with him when his own family visited their kin.

Jaime was eager for Jon’s visits, as it meant he would see his former sworn siblings. When Barristan left, Brynden was elevated to Lord Commander and Loras became his unofficial second in command. While the Kingsguard maintained a formal order of seven sworn knights, Loras’ lover for the past six years, Ser Brance, somehow found himself in rotation to protect Jon. 

The group disembarked the ship and greeted Selwyn. Jaime thought his ribs might be crushed when Selwyn pulled him into a firm embrace. “My boy! Finally, you’re home. I’m glad you’ve brought your father, but his wife… could you truly not misplace her along the way?”

Jaime would have laughed, but the embrace was squeezing the air from his lungs. It felt like being kicked by a White Walker. By the grace of the gods, Selwyn let go and grabbed Barristan. “My new brother is home too! Someone to commiserate with. My children can be terribly annoying.”

Barristan’s own face began to purple at the firm hug from Selwyn. When Selwyn’s eyes landed on Genna, he offered a withering smile. “Lady Genna, I’m certain you’ll have ample opinions to offer in regards to my little island. Please do try not to paint it in crimson and gold.”

Genna swatted Selwyn’s arm hard and scoffed. “Crimson and gold is for lions! I am a Selmy, though if you ask me, my nephew’s cloak might as well be too.”

Without another word, Genna marched forward confidently and barked orders at the staff removing things from the ship. Jaime snorted and smiled knowingly at Selwyn. “We’re going to have  _ great _ fun together. How soon can you, me, and Barristan flee the Keep to tend to  _ pressing _ matters nowhere near my aunt?” 

The journey towards Evenfall was much the same as Jaime remembered it from many years ago. Unlike his first trip with Barristan and Ned, this trip held nothing but hope. Jaime would live out his days with his loved ones surrounding him on a peaceful island in the Narrow Sea. The older children talked excitedly at Sewlyn’s side, and Jaime held little Arthur close atop the horse. To his right, Barristan held tightly to Joanna as she pointed to the seagulls circling above. 

Long gone were Barristan’s sad eyes that Jaime knew for most of his life in the Kingsguard. Since marrying Genna, the aged knight seemed a new man. His eyes were filled with mirth and joy every day; a much welcome change in the man that Jaime proudly thought of as his father. When they arrived at Evenfall, the twins and Joanna ran inside to see their assigned rooms. 

Jaime recalled his first visit to Evenfall and how light and airy it was. His eyes moved slowly to the love of his life standing tall and proud at his side. Brienne was in her element. The light and purity of the island a reflection of their future Evenstar and Lady Paramount. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she looked to Jaime. 

Jaime’s eyes lowered to the Targaryen pendant around her neck. Reaching for her hand, Jaime tugged Brienne close. “Will you give me a proper tour, princess?”

The undertones in Jaime’s voice were hardly subtle. Raising an amused brow, Brienne leaned close. “There will be ample time for a  _ thorough _ tour later. Lets get the children situated with the Septa first.”

Selwyn and the staff led everyone upstairs. The older lord had rearranged the rooms so that Jaime and Brienne had the largest. It was the chambers meant for the Evenstar, but Selwyn insisted they have it. “The island will be yours someday, and I aim to pass as much responsibility as possible to Brienne now. I wish to enjoy the beach with my brother here.”

Selwyn elbowed Barristan whose eyes were wide as he took in the massive room that was to be Jaime’s and Brienne’s. Next, Selwyn guided them across the hall. “This room used to be Galladon’s. It’s the next largest and fit for a couple. Barristan and Genna will be in here.”

The room was almost identical to the room Brienne and Jaime had been afforded. Jaime had not expected the next largest room to be given to Barristan and Genna. Their reaction seemed to indicate the same. 

Barristan’s eyes betrayed his shock as he turned to Selwyn. “Shouldn’t you be in this room? It’s quite grand.”

Selwyn snorted. “I hear that you and Jaime have somewhat disturbed sleep on account of the children and  _ things _ .” The reference to their shared night terrors caught Jaime by surprise. He glanced at Brienne who backed away sheepishly; her face heavy with guilt at divulging the men’s troubles.

Both men had endured much under unworthy sovereigns and recent ‘adventures’. While most of their dreams were peaceful with the women they loved in their arms, sometimes they awoke from visions of Valyria, men burning by wildfire, and the horrors of battle. Most who fought in the Long Night suffered from the same, but Jaime and Barristan dreamed of different outcomes. A dagger missing a coin and reaching a heart. A sword to the gut rather than the sword arm. A familiar face or two being raised with deadly blue eyes. 

Further, the children frequented both of their rooms. To Genna’s surprise, the children sought out Barristan as much as they sought out Jaime and Brienne. The older woman grew accustomed to a young child in her marital bed, and her arms, like Barritsan’s, had become strong from lifting the little ones onto the bed.

Leaving the large room, Selwyn indicated where his own chambers would be. It was still quite sizable, but far enough removed from the other couples. “Your sworn brothers warned me, and a man need not hear his children and friends making a ruckus at night. The lot of you can shout in competition all you like. My ears will be safe down here.”

Genna and Jaime guffawed loudly, but Barristan and Brienne only reddened in embarrassment. Of course, the sworn brothers had embellished…  _ somewhat _ . 

The children were in their own wing of the Keep with a very comfortable room for their septa. All the children were excited to have their own space, as they had little privacy in the White Sword Tower. Once everyone was settled, Selwyn prepared to give his typical tour of the gardens, and Brienne groaned at the thought. Jaime recalled with amusement how Daenerys and Missandei still complained about Selwyn’s painful tour of the gardens when she visited Tarth so many years ago.

Brienne groaned at the words and sagged in despair. “Truly? And you need me for this?” Jaime snorted at Brienne’s dismay. Glancing at Genna and Barristan, Jaime could see the trepidation on the aged knight’s face, but Genna seemed delighted. 

“Oh, I love a good garden!” The older women tugged hard on Barristan’s arm as they followed Selwyn closely. Barristan glanced over his shoulder and stared at Jaime and Brienne; a silent plea for support. 

_ Enjoy your tour, Barristan. I’ll see you in half a day. _

Before Brienne followed, Jaime grabbed her arm and shook his head in refute. The group turned to wait for them, but Jaime called out. “You go on without us. I need to head back to the room and find a suitable place to store my… sword.”

Barristan’s jaw went slack as he knew Jaime’s true meaning, but Selwyn only shrugged and glanced at Brienne. “Whenever the boy is done fiddling about with Brightroar, you know where to find us.”

Pulling Brienne back towards their room, Jaime’s eyes filled with lust. He guided them inside and shut the door as though fleeing the dead. “Thank the gods.”

His lips crashed into Brienne’s. Everything felt intoxicating as Jaime backed her up to the bed. A warm sea breeze wafted in from the balcony and caressed their skin as they stripped away layers. Jaime smiled as his lips dragged across Brienne’s neck. 

“I hope I can find a suitable place for Brightroar.”

Brienne chuckled and shook her head. “If you start calling your cock ‘Brightroar’, you’ll be polishing it on your own.”

Laughter shook Jaime’s chest as he pulled back his head to meet Brienne’s eyes. Her fingers traced the scar at his chest and her smile faded. “We can live in peace now. No more war or threats.”

The words reflected Jaime’s feelings. Serving the realm led Jaime to Brienne, but now he wanted only to live at her side in peace. Rubbing her cheek with his thumb, Jaime smiled softly and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. 

They spent the afternoon wrapped in one another’s arms between the silks. When the sun began to set and the children’s rowdy voices drifted down the hallway, they knew it was time to prepare for supper. 

When they collected the children and made their way to the dining hall, Jaime noted the older three already seated. Barristan looked exhausted, but Genna was chirping about the gardens as they entered. 

Jaime and Brienne took seats opposite the older couple while Selwyn sat at the head of the table. The older knight glared at Jaime and tilted his head. “You missed the entire tour.”

Humming in feigned disappointment, Jaime reached for his cup of wine and pouted. “Pity. Luckily for me, my wife knows the grounds and can show me in her own time.”  _ A faster tour. Or perhaps a drawn out tour with ample coupling in the more concealed locations. _

Selwyn told them of life on the island. He described the various villages and the best places to eat if not at the Keep. Jaime listened with rapt interest when Selwyn spoke of the ruins of Morne. Both Barristan and Jaime were interested to see where the fabled knight, Ser Galladon, hailed from. 

As usual, Jaime and Barristan ate left handed as their wives pressed close at their sides. The older children were eager to play in the yards once dinner concluded; all three coming around for hugs and kisses before rushing outside with their practice swords. 

Selwyn happily held Arthur on his lap as he ate dessert and drank his brandy. Joanna climbed onto Barristan’s lap; the sight reminding Jaime of a young Rhaella clinging to the older knight.

Selwyn took a sip of his brandy and spoke inquiringly. “So which knights replaced you all?”

Brienne straightened in her chair; her chest swelling with pride. “Ser Podrick replaced me. I’m so proud of how far he has come. Ser Yvonn replaced Jaime. Given she was already living in the White Sword tower, it made sense and she is  _ incredibly  _ skilled. She took the best of two fighting styles and made it her own.”

Yvonn and the Hound had been together for as long as Genna and Barristan had. They had two young daughters who took after their parents and fought fiercely in the yards. Rhaella had developed a strong friendship with the girls, and they made the boys look pitiful in the yards.

Brienne continued as Jaime took a sip of the brandy that Selwyn had poured him and Barristan. “As for Ser Barristan’s replacement... Ser Bran.”

Of all the things that made Brienne’s chest swell with pride, Bran’s knighting had been one. On account of his injury many years ago, Bran’s training began later in life than most, but he was a natural. He would always move with a limp, but he more than made up for it in skill. 

He learned the bow from Brienne, the sword from Barristan, and the spear from Ser Nymeria. The longer rage weapons helped give him an advantage for what he lacked in leg speed. Learning the sword from Barristan ensured that Bran was deadly when close range proved necessary. 

Bran also had the advantage of greensight. His visions helped him prepare for threats to come. While not always clear, they had proven valuable in war. 

Roughly five years ago, a threat from the far east made its way east. It was not only steel the Westerosi face, but magic from Asshai. It was an unknown threat, but Bran’s visions proved invaluable. He helped devise a strong military strategy, and led the right flank into battle. From atop his horse, Bran defeated a key leader of the Asshai’i; a shadowbidner named Quithan. 

After leading his own contingent in battle, Bran saved the life of the Hound. With his deadly accuracy with a bow as taught by Brienne, Bran took aim at the assailant about to end the Hound’s life with a morningstar to the head. The distance covered with the longbow was remarkable, and Jaime always loved watching Brienne tell the tale with great excitement. After the battle when Sandor thanked Bran, the young knight smiled knowingly.

_ ‘I didn’t like the future down that path. For a man who doesn't like fire, you cast a lot of light.’ _

Selwyn smiled at the information of the new Kingsguard. “Oh my. Lord Commander Brynden, Ser Loras, Ser Sandor, Ser Nymeria, Ser Pod, Ser Yvonn, and Ser Bran. A strong group to guard the crown and realm. Of course, they’re not the ‘Seven who faced death’, but they’ll do just fine. And when does our aspiring knight return to the city?”

At the reminder that Rhaella’s presence was only a visit, Jaime sagged. She was to return to King’s Landing to continue squiring for the Hound. It was necessary for Rhaella to pursue her dreams, and Jaime had done the same at her age.

Jaime grumbled and replied like a petulant child. “A week.”

Both Barristan and Jaime deflated where they sat. Brienne squeezed Jaime’s hand reassuringly. “She’s with Sandor, and this is her dream. It’s only a two day boat ride, and we can visit easily enough. It could be worse. And don’t forget, she has Loras, Brynden, Olenna, all her Targaryen kin, and Tommen.”

Tommen had completed his studies at the Citadel and was placed in King’s Landing to aid Maester Harmon. The aging maester requested support as his body was failing him. Through his studies, Tommen found his purpose. His love for healing had extended to more than animals, and he eagerly served all in need. 

At the thought, Jaime perked a bit. “Myrcella is to visit regularly too. She said that she’ll visit us on the way to and from the city!”

With Myrcella as goodsister to the queen, she and Trystane visited the capital frequently over the years. Jaime hadn’t considered the perk initially, but he relished seeing Myrcella so often while a Kingsguard. Myrcella and Trystane welcomed their second babe six moons prior. The couple had a three-year old named Doran and the newest babe was a girl named Brienne. In Dorne, female warriors adored Brienne for her accomplishments and opening more opportunities for their sex..

Following the Long Night, many names became quite popular throughout the kingdoms; Brienne, Barristan, Jaime, Sandor, Daenerys, Jon, Brynden, Loras, and Balon. The Kingsguard who stood in defense of life were much revered. Minstrels sang of their brave stand against death itself, and books were written of their deeds. The regard for the ‘Seven who faced death’ had been as surprising to the Kingsguard as the reaction at the feast of life following the Long Night.

Many claimed that there would never be a Kingsguard so brave and skilled as  _ their  _ seven. Jaime was glad that the regard helped keep memory of Balon strong. It had been difficult for the brothers following his death. Many suppers were silent as they lamented his absent voice and ribald tales. 

When dinner finished, Genna and Brienne took Arthur and Joanna to bed given the hour. Jaime and Barristan seized the opportunity to spar the older children in the yards. It had been one of Jaime’s favorite activities in King’s Landing. He and Barristan enjoyed teaching the children and watching their skill develop. Of course, Rhaella was the best of the three. The twins were evenly matched, but the slight edge went to little Barristan. 

Of course, Barristan enjoyed claiming the slight edge in skill was on account of the name. They sparred for some time, until Brienne came outside looking exhausted. “Joanna is asking for a book... or ten.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. Wordlessly, Barristan began to walk towards the Keep. The children relied on Barristan for many forms of comfort. They sought him out for bedtime stories, cuddles, scraped knees, or to serve as a human pillow. At night, Joanna had taken to demanding several stories from her Barristan. Her favorite books made the trip from King’s Landing, but the young girl was excited upon seeing all the books that Selwyn saved from Brienne’s youth. 

After finishing with the twins and Rhaella in the yards, Jaime made his way inside towards Joanna’s room. Sure enough, there was a pile of three completed books on the stand beside the bed. Barristan reclined against the pillows reading another book as Joanna leaned on his chest and followed along with the pictures accompanying the words. 

Moving into the room quietly, Jaime sat on the bed and watched a wide smile stretch across Joanna’s face when she noted his presence. “Daddy! Grandpa Barri is reading about the maiden in the tower now.”

_ Gods. Not that one again. I hope she takes advantage of the books in Selwyn’s library.  _

When at last Joanna was asleep on Barristan’s chest, the men carefully slipped from the room. The twins and Rhaella were preparing for bed as they stepped into the hallway. Brienne always ran a tight ship with the children. When bedtime came, the children did not put up a fuss. They went about their bedtime routine without complaint, and then found the adults to give hugs and kisses before climbing into bed. 

The adults spent some time on the terrace having a drink before everyone retired. It had been a long day for all, and Jaime was eager to sleep. That night, Jaime’s sleep was restless. There was no night terror which plagued him, but rather the newness of the space around him. Tarth was warm and welcoming. The woman at his side was the love of his life, and his ultimate comfort; his constant. 

Of course, Jaime also wanted the love of his life to sleep well. It had been a long day, and Jaime knew she was overwhelmed with the move. Jaime was happy, but everything was a bit  _ strange _ . Sitting upright in the bed, Jaime felt Brienne stir at his side. Her hand reached out for his in the darkness. Even in sleep, Brienne was always able to sense when Jaime became unsettled. Her sleepy voice called out quietly. “Jaime?”

“It’s alright.” Leaning down, Jaime kissed her head. “I’m fine. I’m just not very tired.”

In truth, Jaime couldn’t sleep because he was overwhelmed. At eight-and-forty, Jaime had spent most of his life sleeping in a small room in close quarters with his sworn brothers. 

_ For 33 years I slept in that building. Now I’m in a massive room on an island, and it’s not merely a visit. This is my home.  _

It wasn’t upsetting, but it was different. Too different to allow Jaime rest. Everything felt off. Sharing a room with Brienne in the White Sword Tower had been comical. The rooms were never designed for married couples. Jaime always japed that the Kingsguard rooms were one step above a prison cell. During Aerys' rule, the Kingsguard  _ did  _ feel a prison. It was fitting in that regard, but those four walls became all Jaime knew. 

Jaime slipped out of bed and threw on his breeches. The warm breeze from the sea air drifted from the balcony. Pacing lightly at the foot of the bed, Jaime stepped towards the double doors that lead to the balcony. His brows furrowed as he saw a figure in the distance sitting on the grass looking out towards the sea. 

Glancing back at Brienne, Jaime could see that her breathing was even once more. Jaime slipped from the room quietly and descended the marble stairs to join Barristan outside. The grass was soft and warm under Jaime’s feet. A warm breeze kissed his skin and relaxed Jaime’s tense muscles. Something about the fresh air felt freeing. Again, there was nothing  _ wrong  _ with his new room; it just wasn’t  _ his _ ; at least, not yet. 

Barristan glanced over his shoulder and relaxed at the sight of Jaime. His tone was questioning. “What are you doing at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jaime sat down beside Barristan and pulled his knees up against his chest. He picked at blades of grass and twirled them between his fingers. “The room is so…”

_ Big. _

“Massive.” Barristan spoke quietly at Jaime’s side. It occurred to Jaime then that Barristan was likely feeling the same way. Then Jaime considered that at six-and-seventy, Barristan was even more out of his element. Barristan had been in the White Sword Tower for over 50 years of his life. 

Jaime sighed and nodded. “Something about a smaller room is strangely comforting. Like the walls are there for support. The big room just makes me feel so small.”

Barristan hummed at the words. “It’s like I’m in the middle of the sea with no land in sight. Genna seems quite comfortable though.”

Light laughter shook Jaime’s chest. “She never quite acclimated to the White Sword Tower, did she?”

Barristan bit back a laugh and glanced towards his room before continuing. “For years, I was half convinced she would attempt to cut off my arm while I slept so that I had no choice but to step down. She seemed quite eager to return west.”

Both men sat in companionable silence for some time. Jaime was exhausted, but the room inside was too big. Jaime glanced at Barristan with his brow raised in question.

“Little Barristan built a fort in his room. It’s pretty sturdy looking. Looks like it could hold a couple of old knights.” 

The idea intrigued Barristan. “Oh? Perhaps we should test it and give him feedback on its design and comfort.”

“We should bring pillows. He only put down some makeshift bedrolls.”

Both men stood from the ground and walked back towards the Keep’s side entrance. Wordlessly, they went upstairs and into their respective rooms to retrieve a pillow. Brienne was sleeping soundly inside, and Jaime was happy to see her looking at ease. 

Moving back into the hallway, Jaime waited for Barristan. They walked to little Barristan’s room and slipped inside. The young boy was sleeping peacefully in his bed, and in the corner of the room was his makeshift fort. Little Barristan loved to build forts and ‘camp’ inside. He and Balon played in it earlier, and Jaime had mused that it could comfortably fit three adults. 

When he and Barristan got settled inside, Jaime felt pleased with his decision. It was much more agreeable than the vast space that was his new room. Barristan seemed to feel the same way as the older knight was soon snoring lightly at Jaime’s back. 

The next day, Jaime awoke to the sound of laughter. The twins and Rhaella were staring at him and Barristan with amused expressions on their faces. “See. Daddy and Grandpa slept here.”

All three children moved into the fort and curled up between the men. They lay peacefully for some time until Brienne came in. She smirked at the sight of them all and crouched down just outside the fort. Her eyes darted to Barristan who sat upright and rubbed at his eyes.

“I had a feeling you would be in here too. Genna was in a slight panic, but I told her that you likely went looking for a smaller space and not a swim back to King’s Landing. Jaime couldn’t sleep either.Personally, I enjoyed stretching out.”

Barristan winced slightly at the words. “Sorry. I’ll get used to it… it was just a bit strange.”

Brienne smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, I know. I didn’t sleep in the White Sword Tower so long as the pair of you, but it’s a substantial difference. Food is ready downstairs. Berries are the fruit to be served, so I hope you’ll find that more comforting than the room.”

Jaime snorted at the words and sat upright with Balon still clinging to his chest. At his side, Rhaella stood and held Barristan’s hand. “Come on, Grandpa. We can make a fort in your room tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left after this, but unlike this chapter... there is no real plot. Just a bit of fun detailing life on Tarth.


	79. Selwyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn adapts to changes on Tarth in the most Selwyn way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot train left the station at chapter 78. I wrote this chapter purely for fun, because I just love writing Selwyn, and it served as a way to get a little view into retired life on Tarth for the three fabled knights.

Selwyn knew that he should be grateful, truly. 

Six moons had passed since Selwyn’s island was overrun with Lannisters. Lannisters and Selmys, he supposed, as Genna _actually_ went by her marital name the second time around.

Selwyn also knew that he shouldn’t complain, but there was an issue. The problem was that everyone loved the new arrivals _too_ much. Since the group's arrival, Tarth was inundated with mainlanders and traders; many visitors hopeful to catch a glimpse of the fabled knights. 

While some mainlanders came to explore the island that boasted three of the greatest living knights, a good amount of mainlanders sought a place to live out their days in bliss. Of course, what other land could offer such reprieve if not Tarth? If three of the kingdoms’ most fabled Kingsguard retired there, certainly it was a magical place.

Then there was the increase in trade. Initially, Selwyn was thrilled. With so many visitors to the island, people began to note the appeal of marble. Among other things, Evenfall was constructed with the precious mineral, and guests marveled at how light everything seemed. The demand for marble began to eclipse availability as production from the mines couldn’t keep up. 

On the mainland, Keeps that had stood for generations were redesigned to feature the precious stone and draw light into darker sections. Selwyn could have charged more for the marble given the increase in demand, but he was an honest man and that felt wrong. Despite his decision, lords and ladies began to offer _more_ than the price requested. 

_I suppose it will secure a future for my grandbabes. Perhaps it is best not to argue the offers._

And still, Selwyn knew he should have been grateful, truly. The problem was the bloody knights. No, it wasn’t just that they were knights. It wasn’t even that they were the greatest in the realm in fact. No, it was _who_ the knights were. The ‘slayer of death’ and the ‘slayer of mad kings’ had come to live on Tarth with the ‘slayer of tradition’. 

Brienne had carved a path for women throughout Westeros. Women were no longer sneered at or mocked for picking up the sword or doing work deemed _mannish_. Further, women were no longer considered subpar heirs. Brienne did that. _His_ Brienne. The kingdoms loved her. 

Of course, Selwyn loved that. He was grateful for that, but even still, it was the bloody knights she brought _with her_ . First there was Jaime Lannister; the original Kingslayer. The man who saved half a million people from a mad king. Protector of the innocent. They adored him. Of course, Jaime Lannister came to Tarth with his _father_. 

While they were not kin by blood, everyone knew Ser Father and Ser Son. The kingdoms took an old expression and turned it around. ‘Like father, like son’ became ‘Like son, like father’. 

Barristan Selmy; the Night Kingslayer. The kingdoms had already revered him when he was _just_ Barristan the Bold; the greatest living knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, but no. The man had to go and save literally _everyone_ from death. Protector of life. They adored him just as much as his _son_.

What was Selwyn’s problem? _How in the bloody hells is a man supposed to impress a woman with those two around!?_

It was widely known on Tarth and across the Stormlands that Selwyn took a different mistress to court every year after his wife died. Brienne hated the behavior, but Selwyn did not wish to remarry, and he was a man with _needs_ . For most of his life, Selwyn’s ability to woo ladies visiting the island or inhabiting it was simple enough. Simple until _they_ showed up. 

Most warriors would retire and become fat and drunk like Robert. In Selwyn’s opinion, it was the only polite thing to do. _Leave some for the rest of us mere mortals._

But now, Selwyn had two godlike former Kingsguard on his bloody island. Not just any two; the _handsome_ two. The two that women, and some men, melted over. Not only did Jaime and Barristan not have the decency to let themselves go, but they somehow managed to get better looking. 

Selwyn surmised it must be the freetime they were afforded while not in the Kingsguard. Instead of wasting hours standing outside a door or writing missives in a study, the men spent their days sparring, swimming, riding, exploring, sailing, and fishing like it was their gods damned job to look godlike doing it. 

They were tan, muscular, tall, and unnecessarily handsome. Selwyn always thought that both men looked exhausted in King’s Landing. While in the Kingsguard, they seemed emotionally and physically fatigued from stress, trauma, and responsibility. Now, they seemed men half their respective ages. They always looked well-rested and energetic, and of course, _obnoxiously_ handsome.

Again, Selwyn knew he should have been grateful, truly. Tarth was thriving, and the vassals were proud to call Selwyn their Lord Paramount. No one dared defy Tarth’s rule and pirates now feared attacking the island, but still, the knights proved problematic. 

_But do they have to be that good-looking? Is it truly necessary? They don’t even take advantage of it! They make it seem like a proper inconvenience._

It was one of many ways in which Jaime and Barristan were alike. They had little desire for whores; both men committed to love. Of that much, Selwyn was grateful where it concerned his daughter. 

Jaime adored Brienne, and it made Selwyn’s heart soar. For so many years, he feared what Brienne’s life might be like. Men were cruel and shallow. Most cared only for what was on the surface, and they never took the time to see how truly beautiful Brienne was within. To Selwyn, Brienne was most beautiful in the kingdoms; of that much, he was certain.

Jaime had _seen_ Brienne though. From the moment Jaime arrived on Tarth so many years ago offering to save Selwyn’s precious girl, Selwyn knew that the man saw value in her where others like Ronnet Connington deemed her unworthy. 

Through her marriage to Jaime, Brienne became more confident, social, and happy. There was a spark in her eyes that had been lost in youth, and Selwyn had once feared would never be reignited. For that and the incredible children that Jaime gave her, Selwyn couldn’t possibly love the boy more. When Selwyn observed how fiercely loyal and devoted Jaime was to Brienne, he loved the boy even more than he thought possible.

Still, Jaime was a man ogled daily by others. He grew up hearing how handsome he was, and he _knew_ it. The comments and looks from others hardly phased Jaime. They seemed as second nature to him as hearing accusation that he was a knight or that he was tall. Not as tall as Brienne, of course, but certainly tall by most standards.

Selwyn was half-convinced that if he asked Jaime what role he played on Tarth, the boy would reply, “visual appeal”. More vexing than such a reply would be the truth of it. Jaime was a head turner. Loathe as Selwyn was to admit it, he was the most handsome man on the island, and perhaps, in Westeros. 

Of course, those appreciating Jaime’s beauty were not so foolish as to act on it. Jaime was married to the future Evenstar and Lady Paramount. Anyone who wished to remain alive and on Tarth, would never dare to touch the man married to Selwyn’s daughter. 

Then there was Barristan. Unlike Jaime, Barristan had no idea how handsome people considered him to be. That fact seemed to vex Selwyn even more. Selwyn considered that at seven-and-seventy, Barristan had no business being in such incredible shape. Men half his age didn’t look so muscular, bronze, and attractive. 

_Why is this obnoxious man reverse-aging?_

When the men would go into town together, women stared at Barristan. True, he mostly attracted middle age or older women, but even the young women seemed in awe of him. Unlike House Tarth’s sapphire eyes, Barristan’s were a sky-blue. They sparkled when he spoke and the smile on his face produced the most annoying set of dimples that Selwyn had ever seen. Of course, Barristan had to go and smile like _that_ when Selwyn was busy trying to curry favor with the same women swooning over Barristan. 

Almost as annoying was the youthful blush at Barristan’s cheeks when others made their interest known. Jaime expected such attention, but Barristan did not. Unlike Jaime, women were far more forward with Barristan. The women did fear the repercussions from presenting themselves before Barristan as they did Jaime. Most of the women didn’t even realize that he was a happily married man. Barristan’s unassuming nature played right into their overt interests. 

_Truly, what does a man have to do to find a proper bedmate around here?_

For decades, Selwyn had been the most sought after man on the island. True, he did not have chiseled abs like _them_ , nor did he have the most obnoxiously charming smile as _they_ did, but Selwyn did well for himself. He was known to capture the interest of ample women over the years. It was the one thing that Brienne reprimanded Selwyn for years ago.

_‘You’re Lord Paramount now! You can no longer go whoring about and visiting the brothels as you did when I was younger! It won’t look good to the vassals. You need to act more dignified.’_

Selwyn had grumbled at her words and rushed to defend himself. _‘I’m not whoring about! I’m sampling the wares of merchants and visiting ladies. I owe it to the people to ensure trade remains strong.’_

Brienne had not been amused by Selwyn’s reply. With a grunt, he relented. ‘ _Fine, fine! I’ll not bed any whores.’ … Though visiting vassals or dignitaries perhaps. Surely they are more dignified as the girl asks of me. Diplomatic relations! It is my duty._

For most of his early years as Lord Paramount, Selwyn had an easy time avoiding the brothels and instead capturing the attention of noblewomen and the stunningly beautiful women from all over Essos who visited Tarth. Then, _they_ showed up. _Those gods damned handsome knights with their absurd looks and easy charm._

Selwyn knew that he should be grateful, but _honestly_! 

The three men enjoyed spending time together. They had many of the same interests, and they enjoyed venturing into the village. Aside from staying close to his people, Selwyn enjoyed journeying into the village to meet the ladies. The knights enjoyed exploring the village to buy gifts for their lady loves. 

Six moons after the unnecessarily handsome, much revered, overly praised knights of the gods damned “Seven who faced death’ arrived on his island, Selwyn found himself riding into the village, yet again, with the attention stealers. They were chirping away on their hoses looking extra godlike when Selwyn offered a suggestion.

“Have either of you considered letting yourselves go to complete shit?” 

Selwyn’s abrupt question startled the men, but Jaime slowly smirked and looked to Selwyn with far too much amusement for the older lord’s taste. “I daresay, I’ve not yet considered that. I considered all manner of things, really. Consuming more of your brandy, taking Brienne for a sail to the Rock just to bother Tyrion and Sansa, and having more babes until Evenfall is bursting with occupants. I had not considered letting myself go to shit. I’ll discuss it with Brienne. Sounds interesting. Very Robert-esque, though he did laugh a lot. Even laughed himself into the Stranger’s arms as the hole in his gut teemed with infection. Perhaps there is something to be said for it.”

Barristan snorted at the words. He was always a man of fewer words and far less humor. “Genna would not appreciate that.”

Selwyn rolled his eyes at the men. “Well perhaps when we arrive at the village, the pair of you might wish to visit the smith.”

The smith was on the edge of the village and always devoid of alluring women. Both knights visited from time to time as they procured items for the armory. Aside from Ser Duncan’t shield, they found the rest of the items _underwhelming_. 

Unlike Jaime who often ignored Selwyn’s irrelevant suggestions, Barristan cocked his head in question. “Do we need something for the armory? The last time, we brought back ample swords and arrows for the men.”

Since arriving on the island, both Jaime and Barristan had taken it upon themselves to train Tarth’s soldiers. When Selwyn lost Endrew, he found himself unable to bring in another master-at-arms. He knew it to be foolish, but Goodwin and Endrew had been so dear to Selwyn’s heart that it felt somehow a betrayal to name anyone else. Seeing the obvious gap in defense, the former Kingsguard stepped in and rectified the situation. 

_Gods. Even the bloody soldiers adore them. Ridiculous._

“Perhaps we need more daggers. We’ve not replenished those in some time.” Selwyn’s voice was hopeful as he glanced at the knights to his right. 

Jaime chuckled lightly at the words and spoke sarcastically. “Yes, if there is one thing that Tarth is known for, it’s close range combat.” 

Selwyn could see Barristan biting back a laugh. His head turned to look out at the sea as though admiring the bloody view. Desperate times called for desperate measures where Selwyn was concerned.

“Well it’s a bloody shame. I’ve three of the greatest Kingsguard known to the realm who dueled death in close range, and yet my men rely on the bow. Perhaps I need a master-at-arms to train them…”

Both men answered in unison; consternation on their faces. “What!?”

With a loud huff, Barristan shook his head. “A waste of coin. We’ll train the men with daggers, though I would say they are _vastly_ improved with the sword!”

_True. Their swordplay is far better these past moons, but my sword is much neglected with you two mucking it up._

A feeling of victory bubbled in Selwyn as he glanced at the men. “Perfect! I’ll collect you both after.”

“No, we’ll go to the main village first. I’m starving! I’ve not eaten in hours.” Jaime whined from atop his horse as they moved closer to the village center. 

_No. No. No. This won’t do._

“Well there is that bakery you both enjoy so much that’s not far from the smith.” Selwyn tried to hide the desperation in his tone as he spoke. His prayers went unanswered.

Jaime’s brows arched in contemplation as he ignored Selwyn’s suggestion. “We’ve not been to that inn by the docks in a fortnight. I quite like their fish.”

Barristan spoke excitedly to Jaime. “Yes! The fish. That’s what we need. They also have those rolls your aunt likes so much.”

Selwyn rolled his eyes at the words. The only thing more ridiculous than Jaime’s drooling over Brienne, was Barristan’s doe-eyes at Genna. Every day the man sought to win her approval as though it was the same thing as winning a tourney. 

“I’ll buy the fish and rolls for the Keep if it makes you both happy. No need to go _all the way_ to the village for that. The smith is just ahead here.”

Barristan straightened atop his horse and shook his head in refute. “No, it’s fine. Jaime and I enjoy visiting the merchants with you. I want to get Rhaella a new sword belt that can hold Blackfyre when the time comes that she is knighted.”

Selwyn wanted to weep. “The girl won’t be knighted for years, Barristan! At the rate she’s growing, any belt you buy won’t fit.”

Jaime’s expression soured and a shadow passed over his face. “Supposedly that bloody Stark boy is sweet on her. Mooning all over her in the city.”

“What!? You didn’t tell me this!” Barristan looked as put out as Jaime. The two could bicker like no other, but where it concerned their precious Rhaella, they were a united front.

“Brienne just told me! Ned and Robb think they’d make a fine match. Absurd! A bloody Stark named ‘Eddard’ is hardly good enough for Rhaella!” Jaime’s face reddened in irritation from atop his horse.

Glancing at Barristan, Selwyn could see the aged knight held the same sentiment. “She’s only just turning three-and-ten! She has no time for all that. She’ll earn her knighthood soon enough. Sandor said that Brynden is already eyeing her for the Kinsguard should a position become available in a few years. She’s thrashing about all those useless Gold Cloaks in the yards.” Pride swelled in Barristan’s chest and replaced vexation. 

Selwyn had to admit, on this topic, he agreed with the men. Their Rhaella was too perfect for any young lad. Of course, Robb Stark’s son was heir to a Great House and just a year older than Rhaella. They could make a fine match, but Rhaella didn’t need all that. With a heavy sigh, Selwyn looked ahead and resigned himself to the men’s company. 

He did enjoy them despite it all. They were good men and he was pleased to have them living at Evenfall. He knew he should feel grateful, but _really_!?

They made their way towards the inn so that his majesty, Ser Jaime of House “Yes, tell me once more how handsome I am” Lannister, could eat his bloody fish. The innkeeper waved excitedly at their entry, and it did not go unnoticed by Selwyn how villagers and visitors alike followed them inside to dine.

The serving woman came around to offer a drink while food was prepared. She was a kind woman who had lived on the island for decades. Selwyn estimated her around forty with chestnut eyes, a buxom chest, and long, dark hair. In summary, Selwyn found her stunning. 

In years past, Selwyn and the woman would flirt while he awaited his food with Ser Endrew or Ser Goodwin. Now, the woman’s eyes lingered on the two knights seated across the table from Selwyn. As always, they were utterly oblivious.

The two were discussing Ser Gendry’s and Ser Arya’s newborn babe as the woman’s eyes lingered just past the point of propriety. Glancing at the men, Selwyn raised a brow. 

“Jaime, how do you not catch a chill with your tunic and jerkin hanging open like that? It gets a bit breezy on the island.” _No. In truth it is fucking hot, but I’ll not encourage either of them to wear less clothing._

As always, Jaime left his tunic unlaced and his crimson leather jerkin unbuttoned at the top. Selwyn conceded that he might well do the same if he had the ability to get away with it, but for a man like Jaime so disinterested in anyone _not_ Brienne, it did little to lessen the attention. 

Both knights looked at Selwyn in confusion. Naturally, they wouldn’t notice such things. Glancing down at his attire, Jaime’s brows furrowed. “It’s hot outside. What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed? Brienne quite likes it.”

_Of course she does. From the amused giggles of the staff walking by their chambers at night, she likes quite a lot of things about the boy._

“Is it hot? I suppose I hadn’t noticed.” Selwyn feigned ignorance and took a long sip of his ale. 

Unlike his ‘son’, Barristan did not dress whorish per say, but the limited layers did little to help. It seemed that when Barristan arrived at Tarth, he neglected to bring his jerkins. Selwyn began to wonder if he even had any, or if Genna just preferred easier access. She certainly seemed to enjoy watching him train shirtless in the yards on a hot day.

The server soon returned with the food and smiled widely at the men. “Can I get you anything else Lord Sewlyn or Sers?”

_Some cloaks for my companions perhaps?_

“No, thank you, Aislen.” Selwyn smiled as the girl walked away. A table nearby stared at the men. It was clear from their pointing that they were talking about the former Kingsguard. Not long into the meal, two of the patrons approached; an older woman and a younger woman. Biting back a laugh, Selwyn stabbed at his fish.

_Here we go. Whatever shall we praise today? Their renowned skill? Their battle against the dead? Their slaying of deadly kings?_

“Ser Barristan. Ser Jaime. We heard you moved here after your second term ended. We’re from Rosby.”

Both men smiled and nodded politely, but Selwyn could see the indifference in Jaime’s eyes. “Well my wife is heir, so it seemed fitting enough.”

Jaime pointed at Selwyn in explanation. The women smiled at Selwyn politely, but they seemed as indifferent as Jaime had looked moments ago. Their eyes moved back to the knights. 

“We heard from our kin how valiantly you both fought during the Long Night.”

_Ah. The Long Night it is. Excellent choice._

Barristan was humble as always and only shrugged as though the matter inconsequential. “Everyone fought valiantly. Lord Selwyn commanded the Stormlands outside the gates. They held back the greatest numbers.”

Selwyn chuckled lightly and crossed his arms. It would matter little if Selwyn killed a dragon with naught but his fist. He was in the presence of greatness. Annoying, handsome greatness. 

The women smiled once more at Selwyn, and something shifted in their eyes which made Selwyn straighten. “Yes, it’s why we came here. Ser Brienne is here. She is very brave, honorable, and just. When the time comes, we wish to live somewhere that our skills can be valued.”

At the praise, Jaime beamed and his chest swelled with pride. The older of the two women reached into her pocket and produced a pendant. She placed it on the table before Jaime. “Before the long night, we were jewelers. When King Jon called for all able to forge dragonglass, we went into the city. At first, the men sneered at us, but when they saw how much Ser Brienne liked the daggers we made, they came to respect us. We’ve trained as smiths, and unlike the Crownlands, we feel our skill can be valued here. This is the last pendant I made. It’s forged of interwoven gold and dragonglass.”

The men inspected the pendant and Selwyn had to admit, it was of the highest quality. A chain of interlacing gold and dragonglass was intricately welded together. The pendant itself was a crown with seven points. 

The older woman pointed at the pendant and spoke proudly. “The crown has the seven points to represent the ‘Seven who faced death’. Perhaps one of your children might want it, Ser Jaime. After all, it's their kin who comprised most of the Seven.”

All men sat in awe of the offer. Selwyn had to admit, it was a wonderful gesture and a very nice necklace. Jaime reached into his pocket and produced some coin. What he offered was more than what the necklace would sell for, but the women refused. “Please, it’s a gift. Ser Brienne has given us an opportunity we wouldn’t have had otherwise. There wasn’t much call for finery during the years leading up to the Long Night. We would have been homeless without the chance to use our skill and forge dragonglass.”

Selwyn felt pride spread throughout his body. He smiled while staring at the pendant and huffed a laugh. _Gods. My daughter has made others feel this way. Take that Ronnet and your ridiculous rose._

Still, Jaime insisted. Before Jaime, Brienne, and Barristan were discharged, the crown gave lump sums of coin for years of service. Jon had decided that after terms served, it was only right to have the Kingsguard offered pay for their service. All three had refused the coin, but Jon delivered it on his first visit. He said that returning it would be an act of treason. Of course he spoke in jest, but the payment was incredible. 

_Well this table visit wasn’t so bad. Here I thought to endure more drooling over these two_ . _Instead, I hear of my daughter’s achievements on behalf of women across Westeros!_

“If you’re going to stay here or elsewhere in the Stormlands, you’ll need coin to get set up. Take the coin. Thank you for the pendant. My children are certain to fight for ownership of it. Perhaps it should go to little Barristan since his namesake killed the Night King.”

_Oh no._

The women smiled and the older one’s cheeks pinked as she looked to Barristan. 

_No. No. No._

“It was quite valiant. Of course, living so close to the city, we know it was hardly your first great deed, Ser Barristan.” The woman smiled shyly as she spoke.. 

At the praise and unwanted attention, Barristan looked at the table and refuted it all. “I did nothing compared to my sworn brothers.”

The woman with eyes only for Barristan shook her head fervently. “I can’t think of another knight to have taken three grave wounds in battle and kept fighting as you did at the Ruby Ford. I’ve seen you in many a tourney over the years. My mother once told me that you unseated Ser Duncan. She always said that she wished herself ten years younger and you not a Kingsguard.”

From the blush at the woman’s cheeks, it was clear that she agreed with her mother’s assessment from many years ago. Selwyn could see Jaime biting back a laugh. He always found it amusing when women fussed over Barristan. Jaime leaned onto his elbow and pivoted his body towards his chosen father; a brow raised in amusement as he hummed. “Oh. See, Ser Barristan. Women do find you at least _somewhat_ handsome.”

Barristan grumbled at Jaime to shut up, but the woman spoke too quickly before her own words could be filtered. “ _Definitely_ handsome.”

_Seven hells. There it is. The gods damned blush._

Barristan’s cheeks heated at the woman’s praise, and the purity of it all only seemed to enamor her more. With a wide smile, Jaime nodded at the woman. “He’s very humble, our Night Kingslayer.”

Selwyn cleared his throat and chimed in. “Yes, so humble. A trait his _wife_ finds quite endearing.”

At the words, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh how wonderful. We did not know you had married. Congratulations.”

With a smug smile, Selwyn raised his ale. “Yes, it seems word didn’t get around. Still too new of a union I suppose.” _Ten bloody years. Truly, they should have had a betrothal announced to spare me this nonsense._

Initially, House Lannister and King Jon wished to make a grand event of the wedding, but Genna and Barristan refused it. As they were on in their years, it was hardly necessary to make such a fuss. At the time, Selwyn concurred with the older couple. He wouldn’t fancy that nonsense either. Now, he lamented the kingdoms not knowing what those in the Red Keep did.

By the mercy of the gods, the women bid their farewells and left. Knowing the request that Barristan was certain to have, the server brought over fresh baked rolls for him to take to Genna. She gripped Barristan’s shoulder warmly and smiled. “I know you always ask for these.”

_Kill me now. Perhaps they’ll head to the smith next, and I can mingle with my people and visitors._

They paid their tab and left the inn. That was when it all went to shit. The men followed at Selwyn’s heels as he visited the merchants. As they wove through the streets, people pointed and whispered excitedly. It was mostly visitors to the island who responded so boldly. The people of Tarth had become used to it all; their chests swelled with pride at _their_ knights.

_I did fight an ice spider if anyone cares to know._

As they moved through the village, soldiers began to move quickly towards the harbor. Selwyn’s attention was captured by the commotion, and the three men followed to see what was going on. When the men arrived at the docks, they saw that a fishing vessel had lost its crates off the stern after striking a mooring. 

Selwyn, Jaime, and Barristan moved quickly to the shoreline. The knights immediately threw off their tunics and removed their boots to wade into the water and aid the fishermen. The men were struggling to gather their crates as frantic crew worked to tie to the dock.

Selwyn ran down the dock and reached for the rope. He could tie a strong knot in his sleep, and hardly needed to think about it. He glanced at the young captain who was frozen in place. 

“Check your stern, boy! You may need some repair. You’ll not want to show up on the morrow with your boat below the water.”

Two fishermen in the water worked with Jaime and Barristan to grab the crates and lift them back onto the boat. Jaime appeared the strongest swimmer and retrieved the crates floating the furthest from the shore. 

As Selwyn secured the ship and appraised the structure, he pointed. “Here, boy. You’ll take on water during rough seas if this isn’t patched. Speak with the harbor master and he can recommend a man. There are two in the village that do good work and offer fair prices.”

As Selwyn righted himself, he saw a large crowd watching from the shoreline. With the crates back on the ship. Jaime, Barristan, and the two fishermen made their way back to shore. The women quite enjoyed the spectacle of it all as they smiled, blushed and pointed at the brave knights who so gallantly withstood threateningly warm seas in waist-deep water to save the lives of fishing crates. 

_Lovely. Now they’re shirtless and wet. This day is fucked._

* * *

Seven moons into the arrival of the saviors of all things living and crates, Selwyn sat down in a huff to break his fast. A giggling Arthur was on Barristan’s lap as Brienne struggled to braid a squirming Joanna’s long, straw-blonde hair. 

The twins were discussing with Jaime a tourney they wished to attend on the mainland in a moon turn; their voices thick with excitement.

_Good! Take your father and grandfather, boys. I’ll stay here and tend to the island._

The staff came around to pour Selwyn some tea as he settled into his seat and draped a napkin over his lap. From down the table, Genna sipped her tea beside Barristan as she read a book. Her left hand tenderly stroked the nape of Barristan's neck while he spoke to Arthur.

One of the staff members placed a plate of fresh berries before Barristan; the woman smiling warmly. “I was able to get the fresh berries at the market that you like so much.”

Barristan beamed at the offering and craned his neck to meet the woman’s eyes. “Thank you, Alys! How considerate of you.” 

At his side, Genna snorted and sipped her tea. Of course, the staff adored Ser Father and Ser Son. When the two knights weren’t busy being godlike and half-naked in the yards, they were in the kitchens helping the staff bring in crates of food and offering “aid”. Aid in this case meant helping the kitchen staff stir larger batters that otherwise made the women’s arms sore, all the while they were spoon fed samples of sweets.

As Alys approached Selwyn, she smiled and set out a plate of bread. “My lord, can I get you anything while your meal is prepared? I have some more berries.”

“No, no. Thank you. Perhaps some apples. I’ve not had any in moons. They never seem to be available.”

With a knowing expression, the woman leaned and spoke quietly. “Oh, my lord. We’ve not been purchasing them. It upsets Ser Barristan.”

Selwyn’s jaw went slack. _What!? Not my apples too!_

“Alys, I _need_ apples. Ser Barristan will be fine.”

The woman’s face looked troubled at the thought. “Yes… my lord. Perhaps I can hide some in the pantry for you.”

 _Perhaps? Ridiculous_.

* * *

Nine long moons had passed since _they_ arrived. Olenna was to visit her friend Genna for the first time since House Selmy and House Lannister infiltrated Selywn’s peaceful island. Everyone seemed pleased with life on Tarth, and while Selwyn loved the changes and company, he was less pleased with the change to his bedtime routine held with former mistresses. 

Of course, Brienne was pleased. _‘Father, I am so proud at how seriously you’ve taken the role of Lord Paramount. I was worried you might leverage the role to extend your activities beyond the brothels in town.’_

Selwyn had laughed to keep from crying. _‘I wouldn’t dare dream of it.’ Gods dammit._

Having spent the morning riding to the marble mines and back, Selwyn found himself sweaty from the journey under the blazing sun. The weather was unbearably hot that day, and Selwyn couldn’t wait to sit down under the covered terrace with a cold mug of ale. As he arrived back at the Keep, Olenna’s carriage was just entering the courtyard from the docks.

_She’s early. Of course. The Queen of Thorns operates on her own schedule._

Genna stood excitedly at the entryway to the Keep with her hands clasped together. The idea of the two women in the same Keep for a week frightened Selwyn. _Gods save us all._

As Selwyn handed off the reins of his horse to a stablehand, he turned and walked towards the carriage where Olenna was stepping out. The two women smiled widely and embraced one another. Olenna’s hands waved around the courtyard absently. “Isn’t this just charming, Genna. A little slice of the Seven Heavens. Nothing like the shit-smelling city that I’m indefinitely stuck in.”

Selwyn snorted at the words. Olenna was quick to complain about King’s Landing, but she loved the sense of importance that came with her role on the small council. With her eldest son and grandson at the Reach, Olenna was free to enforce her will on the kingdoms instead. 

Selwyn stepped forward to embrace Olenna in welcome, but she stepped back and grimaced. “Oh, gods, Selwyn. You’re all… sweaty.” Dainty fingers reached out to pat Selwyn’s shoulder. Retracting her hand, Olenna wiped the fingers on her skirts as though sludge had covered them. 

Rolling his eyes, Selwyn welcomed Olenna into the Keep. As Genna helped Olenna get situated in her room, Selwyn took a quick bath in Evenfall’s bathhouse. Given how hot the day was, Selwyn had little desire to soak in the warm water. Instead, he quickly washed and made his way towards the terrace. The women were just venturing outside with cold tea in hand as the staff followed with a platter of cheese.

In the distance, Jaime and Barristan were sparring half-naked in the yards. Selwyn groaned and rolled his eyes at the sight of the female staff huddling by the doorway and staring unabashedly at the men. Once they saw Lord Selwyn and the ladies approach, they blushed and scurried away faster than cockroaches exposed in daylight. 

The three sat at a table as the staff brought Selwyn his ale. Glancing out at the yards, Olenna’s eyes went wide. “Is that… Barristan?”

Genna followed Olenna’s gaze. A knowing smile spread across her face. “In the flesh.”

“He’s so…” It was the first time that Selwyn saw Olenna Tyrell speechless. He and Genna spoke at the same time.

“Sweaty.”

“Handsome.” Genna’s smirk deepened as she glanced at Selwyn.

Olenna waved Selwyn off as she stared at Barristan. “I mean, he’s always been a good-looking man, but by the gods… he looks half his age. He’s so tan and muscular and…”

“Tall?” Selwyn supplied. 

Once more, Olenna ignored him. A wide smile stretched across her face as she raised her brows at Genna. “You've done quite well for yourself, Genna. Good girl. I bet you’ve taught him all manner of important things over the years too.”

“He’s a very quick learner. A _skilled_ man.” Genna looked far too pleased with herself as she leaned back and watched the pair spar.

“That nephew of yours looks quite remarkable himself. It's a wonder Brienne isn’t with child again. Gods. I’d have twenty babes had I been given a husband like _that_.”

As if summoned by mention alone, the two knights stopped sparring in the distance and approached to welcome Olenna. Selwyn watched in disbelief as Olenna rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around a _very_ sweaty, _very_ shirtless Barristan. The aged knight was still collecting his breath as he spoke.

“Sorry… I need a bath.”

Olenna laughed and swatted his arm playfully. “Oh please. It’s just a sign of hard work.” Patting Barristan’s cheeks adoringly, Olenna moved on to Jaime.

“You’re not going to pinch my ass again, are you?” Jaime raised a brow at the older woman; his posture hesitant. 

“You are so dramatic! If you weren’t so tall, my hand would have gripped your lower back as it does when I embrace men of normal height.” Olenna hugged Jaime quickly before taking her seat once more. 

The men reached for water on the table to quench their thirst from the yards. Both were even more golden than usual and their eyes sparkled with a youthful energy they had no business possessing. They somehow managed to look more refreshed after a spar. Olenna quietly enjoyed the view as she watched them.

Swatting Barristan’s chest, Jaime captured his attention. “Lets go to the beach. It’s hot.” 

With a nod of agreement, Barristan set down his water cup and the men made their way towards the private path down to the beach. 

Olenna reached across the table to grip Genna’s arm as she gaped at the retreating men. Her body leaned over to maintain the view longer. “He has dimples? Since when does Barristan have dimples!?”

A smirk tugged at Genna’s lips as she reached for her cup. “Since he started smiling.”

Leaning his elbows onto the table, Selwyn raised a questioning brow at Olenna. 

“Do you need something to wipe away the men’s sweat from your precious fingers and body?”

Olenna’s eyes rolled dramatically. “Oh hush up, Selwyn! It was just a bit of sweat.”

Selwyn guffawed at the words. “A bit of sweat!? The sea is not so salty as the pair of them.”

With a loud snort, Genna waved dismissively at Selwyn. “Ignore Sel. He’s had a rough go of it lately. The ladies have been a bit distracted by the new arrivals.”

“A bit distracted?” Selwyn scoffed. “Is it too late to have Jon formally announce your betrothal and marriage to Barristan? It would make things easier for everyone, really.”

Olenna raised a knowing brow and chuckled. “I mean... if it isn’t _official_ without an announcement, I wouldn’t mind a little sparring of my own with Barristan.” Turning to Selwyn, Olenna patted his arm and spoke mockingly. “Poor thing. It must be awful for you not being the only handsome man on the island.”

At the praise, Selwyn straightened. “Go on. I’ve always valued your opinions more than Genna.”

The women chuckled and reached for the cheese; their movements mirrored as they appraised him. Olenna spoke again, and raised a brow at Selwyn. “Oh come now, Sel. You’ve never had an issue earning attention from women. I even brought you a _gift_.” 

A sly smile spread across Olenna’s face. “She’s just in the village getting some things for her grandbabes. You remember Lady Syllen, don’t you? That buxom widow from the Reach. She was _very_ eager to extend the duration of her trip east when I mentioned that I was to see you.”

_Oh… Lady Syllen. How could I forget her? Lovely women. Incredible stamina. Very giving._

“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite Paramount? Very agreeable to work with.”

Olenna laughed knowingly and clinked her cup to Selwyn’s. Her eyes darted to Genna and the women exchanged a knowing look. Selwyn cared little if it was a planned scheme. He had diplomatic relations to attend to. It was his duty to be a gracious host.

 _Thank the gods Olenna is here._

* * *

One year had passed since Selwyn opened his doors to the Selmy men... well, technically the boy was a Lannister in name. Still, Selwyn had not realized that opening the Keep door to the knights meant closing the door to the ladies. 

Brienne, Jaime, and the children were visiting the Rock. Surely with the younger knight gone, the older knight would be less _problematic_. Less… naked in the yards. Less… enticing while swimming before all of Tarth with naught but his smallclothes on.

It was not going as Selwyn pictured it. Then he realized the potential error in his approach. 

_Perhaps I should not have considered their presence a disadvantage. There are three things the ladies love; babes, little animals, and Barristan's dimples. Perhaps Barristan can be the bait. Reel in the ladies. We can pass for brothers. Obviously I’m the much younger, much more available brother. Better beard too since Genna prefers Barristan clean shaven; pure semantics though. I’m certain mine would still be better. Of course, I’m much taller and equally gallant. I did fight an ice spider after all. Now I just need to convince Genna…_

“Barristan! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Barristan glanced up from his spot on the bench as Genna lounged against him in the garden. It was the stillest that Selwyn had ever seen the man. There was desperation in his eyes.

“Tonight we have a boys’ night! Just you and me in the village after supper. We’ll get some ale and talk about… whatever it is you and Jaime are usually rambling on about.”

Before Barristan could reply, Genna sat upright and put down her own book. “What’s your game Sel? What do you mean to do with my husband?”

“Nothing! Can we men not bond? The children and grandchildren are away. Let’s enjoy it!”

Genna’s eyes narrowed at Barristan, and for a moment, Selwyn feared he may reject the idea. There was a hesitation in Barristan’s eyes, but by the grace of the gods, he was bold. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

Genna was not pleased.

That night when they left the Keep on horseback, Selwyn looked at Barristan and smiled. “This will be great fun! We’ll have some ale, enjoy the freedom from the crushing weight of responsibility at Evenfall, maybe find a woman or two.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no. I don’t want…”

“No, no! A woman for _me_. The inn has all manner of travelers and some of the women have been at sea without companionship. As lord of this little island, it is my duty to ensure everyone is enjoying themselves. For trade and diplomatic relations of course.”

Barristan appeared unimpressed by the answer. Very Brienne-like. Grumbling slightly, Selywn spoke earnestly. “Listen, Barristan… things were _very_ different for me before you all came to live here. Not better, but _different_. I’m certain you know of my proclivities.” 

Selwyn raised a knowing brow at Barristan, but the older knight only seemed confused. With a heavy sigh, Selwyn spoke plainly. “You and Jaime quite enjoy your marriages and all things love. I had love in my life. Not once… but twice. I consider myself blessed in that regard. Now, I just want to sample all that life has to offer. Before you all came here, I made sufficient use of the brothels. The Stormlands were quite familiar with my taking a new mistress to court every year, but… Brienne is not fond of such things. She thinks it unbecoming of a Lord Paramount. So I stopped going to the brothels and keeping women at court, but I did enjoy _welcoming_ ladies to Tarth before you all showed up. It has been a bit difficult to continue welcoming them since you all arrived.”

Understanding dawned on Barristan. “I can see how Brienne would not appreciate that. It’s good of you to withhold on her behalf.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Selwyn’s lips. “Oh, let me be clear, I have tried to remain welcoming of the ladies. The problem is that they are _very_ distracted. Strangely, I now find myself the third most intriguing man on Tarth. You and Jaime have been a bit problematic in that regard.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide at the words. “Jaime and I don’t intend to intrigue anyone. We’re both married and quite content.”

Selwyn snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, well the mainlanders and people of Tarth are quite familiar with how unavailable Jaime is. The visitors from across the Narrow Sea… not so much. Now as to you, only the people of Tarth and those in the Red Keep seem to understand how _entirely_ unavailable you are. Not even that fact seems to stop the swooning. Quite annoying.”

Even in the darkness, Selwyn could see Barristan’s cheeks heat at the words. “See, now that is the problem! You’re far too unassuming and it plays right into them. You blush like a maiden would, and you smile too much.”

“I smile too much? I’ve never been accused of that before.” Barristan seemed disbelieving at the accusation, though Selwyn could understand why. Prior to Genna, the man was always known to look rather sullen despite being considered handsome by many. Sad eyes, they said. Since marrying Genna, he smiled a lot. Since moving to Tarth, he smiled constantly. 

With an amused expression, Selwyn nodded and chuckled at the older knight. “Yes, far too much smiling, or so I thought. That is all about to change tonight. You’re to help me.”

“Help you?” A questioning expression spread across Barristan’s features as the horses slowly moved forward. “How?”

“Barristan, my man, you are to be my brother tonight. Of course, I’ve come to think of you as a brother anyway, but tonight, that will be our angle. You, the older, much unavailable, fabled Kingsguard. Me, the _significantly_ younger, very available, gallant lord who waged war with an ice spider.”

“You’re not _that_ much younger than me. I’ve only eight years on you and…”

“Well… for tonight lets add ten years to that. Obviously our Houses are different; the relation will be on our maternal side.” Selwyn worked out the tale as he spoke. He didn’t notice the continued confusion from the knight at his side.

“Now I do tend to prefer our guests from across the Narrow Sea. No offense to Genna, but Andal women are so… overabundant. A bit dull. If you could lure one or two in from Lys, that would be ideal.” 

“Lure them in?” Trepidation lined Barristan’s tone as he spoke slowly from atop his horse. 

Reaching out a long arm to Barristan’s shoulder, Selwyn patted the man and smiled widely. “Those dimples are to be the bait. Smile all you want this evening. Regale them with tales of bravery! Barristan the Bold! The women love it. Without Jaime here to make them drop their smallclothes, you’ll have their sole attention.”

“I… don’t think Genna will appreciate this. Perhaps I should leave you to it.” Barristan glanced back at the castle as though Genna might fly down on Viserion and snatch him away for misconduct. Selwyn’s eyes instinctively scanned the sky for the nerve wracking creature that luckily followed its rider west.

“We will certainly not tell Genna of this. A vow between brothers. I know how seriously you take your vows, Barristan. No harm will befall you for a little light chatter with the ladies. Just ensure that before they become too captivated, you casually introduce me as your much younger, far more..”

“Yes, yes. I heard you the first time.” Barristan shifted atop his horse and sighed. “ _If_ I do this for you, do you plan on bringing them back to Evenfall? Genna will certainly know then. I’m half-convinced she’ll know anyway.”

“Gods, no! If the women are traveling, they’ll have a room in town.” Selwyn paused and waggled his brows. “I wouldn’t bother waiting for me though. You can just tell Genna that I decided to tend to something at port.”

Barristan looked thoroughly scandalized at the instruction. He glanced away and took a deep breath as though considering where he could find the nearest Sept. Then, Barristan ‘too gods damned honorable’ Selmy voiced his greatest concern over the plan. “You’re Lord of Tarth. You shouldn’t journey to and from the village on your own. It’s hardly safe.”

“Oh by the gods, Barristan! I’m not King Jon. If a man of my stature can’t ride safely from town to the Keep on his own island, he has no business ruling! Now listen, we need to consider an approach.”

“An approach?”

“You’re not much of a talker, but the women always seem to flock to you anyway. The mainlanders will know who you are and immediately yammer on about all your great deeds. Mystery knight at Blackhaven. Slayer of Maelys the Monstrous. Rescuing maidens. Wounded by arrow, spear, and sword at Ruby Ford. Slayer of death. Blah blah blah. Now the women from across the Narrow Sea likely won’t know you until they hear your name. Even still, some might not know. Tell them about all those injuries you endured and kept fighting. They’ll eat it up. Just… you know. Flirt with them. Do you know how to flirt, Barristan?”

_Gods. I truly don’t think so. Genna likely just pounced on him and claimed the man._

Barristan looked wide-eyed at Selwyn and shook his head in refute. 

“Seven help me. We’ll need to work on that, Barristan. It’s no matter. Just stay close to me.”

When they reached the inn, Selwyn smiled widely. He could hear the patrons inside enjoying the evening. There were two inns that saw much activity in the evenings. One inn was further up the road, but it was a much younger crowd and Selwyn simply could not indulge. The woman _had_ to be older than his daughter or it just felt wrong. Ideally someone in her 40s or 50s would be lovely. Barristan glanced uneasily at Selwyn, but the Tarth lord only smiled widely.

Selwyn quickly appraised Barristan. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. _The one night he wears a bloody doublet._

Tugging Barristan towards him, Selwyn grumbled and unlaced the top of the older knights doublet and tunic. Barristan batted his hands away. “What are you doing!?”

“You’re the bait, man! Can’t have you looking so prudish. Summon a bit of your inner Jaime.”

“I have _no_ inner Jaime.” 

_Seven help me._ “Listen, I’ll buy you a nice mug of ale and order you some of that pie that you enjoy so much.”

“The one with the blueberries!?” Hope blossomed in Barristan’s eyes and Selwyn prayed to the gods that the innkeeper had not sold out of the dessert for the night.

“Of course! Only the best for my _much_ older brother.” Selwyn guided Barristan inside and towards a table in the middle of the inn. With a friendly wave to the staff, Selwyn sat down excitedly. 

He glanced around the room and noticed the sea of visitors to the island. Roughly forty patrons were drinking, eating, and laughing loudly. Only one-quarter appeared to be locals which did not surprise Selwyn given how full the inn was. 

The server came over with a wide smile in greeting. “Lord Tarth. Ser Barristan. What can I get for the pair of you?”

“Ah, Breida, good to see you this evening. Ales for us please. Oh, and some of that delicious blueberry pie.”

With a nod of understanding, the server left and Selwyn’s eyes appraised the room once more. Across the table, Barristan leaned forward and rubbed the back of his head. “Sit upright, man. You’re Barristan the Bold. Now smile a bit and don’t look like you’ve been kidnapped.”

“I'm starting to think that I have been.” Barristan huffed slightly, but straightened. 

“Where is your sense of adventure!? This will be fun. We’re bonding.” Selwyn tried to improve Barristan’s spirits, but his efforts were failing. Then an idea struck Selwyn.

“Perhaps I was a bit harsh about Andal women earlier. I suppose I just don’t see such an appeal as you do. Tell me, what caught your eye about Genna?”

At the mention of Genna, Barristan’s eyes sparkled and a slight color touched his cheeks. He started singing sonnets about his lady love, but Selwyn’s interest was entirely contrived. He smiled and nodded while appraising the women in the room. Like moths drawn to fire, a few began to take notice of the renowned knight who was positively beaming. Gods damned dimples and all. 

Nodding and raising a brow at a few to indicate that they wouldn’t mind intrusion upon their table, Selwyn watched gleefully as a pair of women in their 50s made their way over.

“Hello ladies. Are you enjoying your stay on Tarth?” Selwyn straightened and smiled widely at the pair as he slid down the bench to offer a seat. Judging by their attire, they looked to be from Myr. Traders from Myr were constantly on Tarth. The most common products they looked to sell or trade were Myrish lace and tapestries, as they knew they could fetch a good amount of coin. 

The women were stunning with olive skin and dark hair which were beautifully complemented by the colorful fabrics they wore. The woman who sat next to Selwyn replied; her accent making the words sound scandalous and Selwyn loved it. “It’s quite lovely here. The weather _and_ the people.” 

As she concluded her sentence, her eyes drifted to Barristan who was utterly oblivious as always. The woman’s companion had rounded the table and sat beside Barristan. “You look familiar.” 

Barristan began to protest, but Selwyn caught his eyes and shook his head in warning. _Come on man! Don’t shy away now._

Barristan swallowed his intended words and cleared his throat. “Well… this is my brother’s island.” Gesturing towards Selwyn, Barristan nodded slowly. “I’ve only arrived a year ago. I was in the Kingsguard.”

“The Seven who faced death!? Tales of what happened in Westeros reached our shores years ago. The traders from Westeros sing songs of it. You were one of them?”

Shifting on the bench, Barristan bit his lip and glanced at Selwyn once more. “Yes.”

_Good man, Barristan!_

“Though those who fought outside the city gates were just as fierce. My brother, Lord Tarth here, fought among them and led the Stormlands.”

At Selwyn’s approving nod, Barristan smiled widely. The women’s eyes went wide with intrigue… and they stared at the gods damned dimples. 

The woman at Selwyn’s side spoke curiously at Barristan. “Which one of the fabled seven are you?”

“I’m Barristan Selmy.” 

“The Night Kingslayer!?” The woman’s eyes went impossibly wider. “They say many grand things about Barristan Selmy. They even say he went to Valyria! I struggle to believe it all; particularly about the narrow escape. You're truly him?”

Selwyn fought the urge to clap at how well it was going. “He has the scar to prove it. Show them your arm, brother.”

Just as Selwyn made his request, the server returned. She placed down the ale and slice of pie which Selwyn promptly dragged towards himself. _The arm, Barristan._

With a grumble, Barristan rolled up the right sleeve of his tunic. The women ate it up. They stayed and spoke for some time. As planned, Barristan spoke proudly of Genna after some time, but he feigned sorrow that his _brother_ did not find love after the war. Selwyn adored him for it. Soon, Barristan sat contentedly eating his pie as the women listened with rapt interest to Selwyn’s grand tales from the Long Night in which he fought an ice spider and giants. 

The night was a grand success with Selwyn finding his way upstairs to _welcome_ one of the women. Barristan returned to Genna with an extra slice of pie to earn his little head pat. 

For a moon turn, the pair took their adventures into town every few days. It was just enough not to vex with Genna, and Barristan was getting much better at reeling in available women for Selwyn. When the inn was so crowded that it was standing room only, Barristan would slowly walk the room and await a nod of approval from Selwyn when a lady of interest demonstrated some degree of intrigue with Barristan. 

Then Jaime returned and everything went to shit.

“I want to come.”

“No!” Selwyn’s reaction startled both men as they stood in the courtyard before riding into town.

“Why can’t Jaime join us?” Barristan’s brows furrowed at Selwyn’s remark. He looked like a sad puppy whose owner left without him.

Selwyn tried to smooth things over and downplay the evening to come. “We have a little routine going. You spend all day with the boy. Surely he has better things to do. This is our time!”

Selwyn was surprised to find how true the words felt. He really enjoyed the time with Barristan. They had bonded despite Selwyn's initial objective being rather self-serving. 

Jaime only shook his head in refute and shoved some lemon cakes into his mouth. “I don’t have anything to do. I’m very much available.” 

Of course, he was looking handsome and whorish as ever. _Gods. He’ll destroy our game._

When Jaime and Barristan continued to badger Selwyn about it, he relented. As they made their way into town, Selwyn explained their ruse. Jaime laughed loudly and shook his head in disbelief. He glanced at Barristan with an amused expression.

“And you went along with this? I can't believe it.”

“I get pie and ale out of it.” Barristan rushed to his own defense, but Jaime only laughed louder. 

“Genna is going to kill the pair of you.”

“And now you’re an accomplice, so you’ll say nothing of it.” Selwyn’s tone was warning as they moved into town.

Jaime only shrugged in amusement. “I have to see this.”

Considering how obnoxiously handsome his goodson was, Selwyn tried to make some adjustments. “You need to button all that up. The tunic and jerkin. Do you have anything to put over your head?”

Jaime snorted at the question. “Like a bag? Should we just lop the whole head off instead? Barristan is good at that. I trust him with a clean cut.”

_Gods, this boy is going to ruin everything._

“Well just try to be less… you.” _Less handsome. Less charming. Less confident. Just less of it all._

As they moved inside, Selwyn smiled as he noticed how crowded it was. The inn was standing room only that night which always meant a wonderful opportunity to truly welcome the people. Selwyn made Jaime hold back at his side. A woman to Jaime’s left tried to catch his eye, but Selwyn grumbled. “Too young, boy. Aim older. That one belongs up the road.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion as he looked to Selwyn. “I haven’t _aimed_ anywhere. I’m literally just standing here.”

“Well be less appealing as you do so! Look at Barristan over there! See how well he’s doing.”

Barristan moved slowly through the room, his eyes constantly darting to Selwyn for reaction. At Selwyn’s side, Jaime was cackling in disbelief. “You’ve got him trained.”

“Properly. You have no idea how long we had to work to perfect this.”

Not long after, a woman who appeared to be a mainlander made her way towards Barristan. It was clear that she recognized him, and Selwyn was quite pleased. Jaime’s jaw went slack as Barristan spoke with the woman for a few moments before pointing towards Selwyn.

“You have to be kidding me.”

Selwyn hummed in delight as Barristan and the woman made their way towards them. “He might be my new favorite person.”

The game came to an abrupt halt three nights later when all three went into the town for their second outing together. Jaime had been endlessly amused by it all, but he decided that he could do better than Barristan. The two knights squabbled over who could play the game better which only brought Selwyn great joy.

_This is going to be amazing. Why have I not embraced these ridiculously handsome knights sooner?_

Of course, Selwyn encouraged a little friendly competition for who could lure him the most stunning woman. As happened from time to time, both Barristan and Jaime managed to catch the eye of happily married mainlanders merely in awe of all that Barristan and Jaime had done. Then Barristan caught the eye of another patron. 

The woman seemed of age to Selwyn, but a touch more forward than propriety would allow. She was visiting kin in Westeros and stopped on the island as she passed through. She had spent time exploring Tarth, but she seemed a bit too eager to explore Barristan. 

For the hundredth time during the conversation, the woman ignored Barristan’s attempt to steer the topic away from himself. Selwyn was beginning to think it might be time to head back for the night. He didn’t need to _welcome_ anyone. In truth, spending the time with Barristan had actually become quite fun. He was a kind and humble man, and it meant a lot to Selwyn that Barristan went outside his comfort zone to aid Selwyn. He truly didn’t wish to get Barristan in trouble. Truly.

Then the woman launched herself at Barristan. Her lips pressed against the aged knight and Selwyn could practically hear Barristan’s heart shatter. _Oh no. This is no good._

Pushing the woman away, Barristan stormed out from the inn. Jaime and Selwyn followed close at his heels and tried offering comfort as they rode back to the Keep, but Barristan was beside himself.

“I _knew_ this was a terrible idea weeks ago. Genna will never forgive me.”

Selwyn grimaced in reply. He felt genuinely bad about it. When they arrived back at Evenfall, Selwyn and Jaime guided Barristan towards the study. Both men knew that sending Barristan straight off to Genna would not end well. Selwyn poured him some brandy and tried again to offer reassurance. 

“It was innocent, Barristan. The woman was indecent, but nothing happened.”

Nothing helped. Even Jaime could do little more than drape a consoling arm over Barristan’s shoulders and try to jape at it. “Look on the bright side… you’ve never kissed a sister.”

An awkward, forced laugh pushed past his lips as the older men looked to him in horror. “Too soon still?”

The next day, Selwyn found himself sitting wedged between Jaime and Barristan on a chaise lounge far too small for men of their size. Standing before them were two irate women. Brienne and Genna had been dishing out a verbal beating for nearly an hour. Genna crossed her arms and glared at Barristan.

“And you were helping by doing _what_ exactly?”

Barristan grimaced and shrugged from Selwyn’s left side. “To be honest, I’m still not entirely certain, but Selwyn said it was working.”

Genna’s eyes were a warning as she leaned closer and glared at Barristan. “You told me that the pair of you were just going into the village for a boys’ night to get some ale. _Not_ that you would be whoring about.”

“I swore a vow...” Barristan began to reply, but Genna cut him off.

“A vow!? Another bloody vow? This is not the Kingsguard!”

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “He said it’s a vow between brothers. Same thing really.”

Selwyn rushed to his friend’s aid and gestured at Barristan’s face. “Come now, Genna. Look at that face! It’s a godsdamn waste of a perfectly good set of dimples!”

Jaime leaned forward and chimed in. “The ladies do love the dimples. I saw it.”

Humming in agreement, Selwyn turned towards Jaime and chuckled. “Gods remember that one from Lys he reeled in!?”

“The one with the lilac eyes with the perfumed hair?” Barristan leaned forward as he continued. A smile stretched across Barristan's face as he continued. “She was…” As Barristan’s eyes landed on Genna, he closed his mouth quickly and leaned back in the chair. 

Before Genna could attempt her best impersonation of Viserion and spew fire onto them, Brienne spoke angrily and glared at Selwyn.

“You used our husbands to lure in women for you! This is worse than the brothels, father!”

Selwyn scoffed and straightened in the chair. “Now wait just a moment! I did not use _your_ husband! Only Genna’s!” The women stared in disbelief at Selwyn as he continued to defend himself in the most absurd way. 

“Your husband only attracts them too young, and everyone knows not to flirt with him! They don't want to die. He’s married to Ser Brienne Tarth! All of Westeros knows he is entirely devoted to you. They merely drool over him, but they dare not approach. Only Tarth and those at the Red Keep know this one is married…” Selwyn pointed to Barristan in accusation. “...and even if more did know that he is happily married, he’s not married to a knight. Just Genna.”

Barristan grumbled at Selwyn’s side. “Some might say that’s more frightening.” 

Genna grabbed Barristan’s chin in reply and yanked his head upwards to meet her eyes. Both Selwyn and Jaime sucked in a sharp breath knowing the knight was to die.

_Such a shame._

“Now Genna, don’t be mad at Barristan. It was my idea. I mean, what is the problem, ladies? Look at their faces! It would be a crime against the gods to not make full use of the gifts bestowed upon them.”

Removing Genna’s death grip on Barristan’s chin, Selwyn pointed imploringly. “Look! Barristan, do that face you do.”

Barristan’s brows furrowed as he looked to Selwyn. “I honestly don’t know what that means.”

With a huff of annoyance, Selwyn shook his head. “Alright forget it. The point is… I may have overstepped here. I apologize. On my honor as a Tarth, I swear that at no time, _aside from last night_ , has anyone ever touched Barristan. It was a bit of good fun, but I’ve learned my lesson. We all have. Don’t be mad at him. The man was sick with guilt over it.” 

Leaning over to Barristan, Selwyn spoke in a whisper through gritted teeth. “Do that pathetic thing with your eyes. The one that looks like a kicked hound.”

“What?” Barristan’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head in disbelief at Selwyn. “You are not helping.”

  
  


* * *

Two years had passed since Genna allowed Barristan to live. Three years in total since Selwyn unknowingly welcomed the end of his status as ‘most desirable man on Tarth’. 

“Oh gods. Why is he dressed like that!?” Jaime’s nose scrunched in distaste as he appraised Barristan. 

Tilting his head in question, Selwyn crossed his arms and shrugged. “Like a knight of Tarth? Is he not? What is wrong with azure and rose!?”

“No, it’s not the colors. It’s just… why is he dressed in more layers than when we prepared for the dead?” Jaime’s head tilted in confusion as he continued to stare at Barristan.

_Oh. He noticed my effort to cover the man entirely. Shame I couldn’t find a way to make a hat work. Perhaps a helm!? Yes, that will help greatly._

“Well the weather has been a touch cool, and most formal attire is traditionally more… layered.” Selwyn was reaching and he knew it. 

Both Jaime and Barristan looked to him slowly in confusion. “We live on an island. It’s hot.” Barristan’s voice sounded desperate, and Selwyn bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Admittedly, the azure tunic with a rose doublet covered by a formal jerkin might have been a bit excessive. Despite Selwyn’s effort, the seamstress fitted the grey breeches far too well. They somehow made Barristan look even more appealing. 

“Well too late to change it all now. You’re next, Jaime!” Selwyn tried to sound cheery, but the boy looked hesitant. 

“My aunt thinks that I should wear crimson and gold.” Judging by the uncertainty in Jaime’s tone, it was clear he didn’t fancy the idea, but it now seemed more appealing. 

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a Tarth now.”

Jaime reached as much as Selwyn had. “Well… a _Lannister_ of Tarth. Perhaps she has the right of it.”

Raising his brows, Barristan’s lips parted moments before he spoke. "Perhaps I should wear the colors of House Selmy. I can find something.”

“No, no. The boy is no longer a lion and you’re no longer a… wheat stalk.” _What an absurd sigil. I mean… I get it. Harvest Hall, but still. It isn’t very commanding. Doesn’t instill much fear or revere. There’s nothing quite so impressive about a bit of wheat._

With a shrug, Jaime tried to sound halfway compromising. “I like to think myself more of a sea lion now. Maybe I’ll start my own sigil and attire.”

Barristan snorted and nodded. “I’ll go with that. This is very nice, Selwyn, but I think I might pass out from heat.”

_Gods dammit._

“Come now, boys! This is for Rhaella’s knighting.” 

Rhaella was entering her first tourney against knights. While squires had their own division, Jon had made a special exception for Rhaella. It only seemed fair as Rhaella had been winning the squire’s division before she was technically a squire. Barristan had urged her to enter tourneys early to learn different styles. While not the same as battle, he felt there was much more to learn from opponents at a tourney where more was at stake than a handshake in the yards.

Of course, Rhaella had excelled. The young girl was now five-and-ten, and Jon planned to knight her following the tourney at the victor’s feast. While it was unlikely Rhaella would win, Jon felt it a fitting venue to recognize her skill. Little known to Barristan, Jon was to have his former Lord commander do the honors and knight Rhaella.

The relationship between Rhaella and Barristan was something special and Selwyn treasured that the pair had such a strong bond. Rhaella idolized Barristan and always tried to make him proud, but it seemed that all she had to do was breathe to make Barristan’s chest swell with pride.

Unknown to Rhaella, Barristan planned to give her Blackfyre when she received her knighthood. He had little need for it, and Barristan wished for it to stay with House Targaryen. To stay with _his_ granddaughter.

Of course, Selwyn wanted the men to look good, but given all the focus to be placed on them, would it be so awful if they were a bit _covered up_?

“Alright, alright. The jerkin is unnecessary, I suppose. Lets see you without it then.” Selwyn grumbled and noted the visible relief on Barristan’s face. 

The aged knight happily discarded the topmost layer. _I paid this bloody seamstress too much. He looks perfect; like a man half his age._

Jaime and Barristan exchanged relieved looks with one another. It was clear that neither wished offense, but the bulk had been a bit much. Once Jaime was in his attire, Selwyn appraised the two men in their matching outfits befitting Tarth royalty. 

_Gods dammit. They certainly make our island proud. This is how it should be._

A knock at the door caught the men’s attention. Genna poked her head in to appraise progress and her mouth hung open. 

_Yes, bloody colorful enough for you. Gods she best not ravish Barristan in this. There is no time to fix it._

“Oh, thank the gods. I was prepared to put them in crimson and gold. This is... “ Genna paused; her eyes clouded with lust as she looked at Barristan. 

_Seven hells. The outfit is fucked. She’ll claw him to shred in their chambers after this._

“Now Genna, there is no time for alterations so don’t do anything _drastic_. Perhaps store it away in the trunk we’ll have brought to the ship this evening.”

Genna’s eyes roamed Barristan’s body once more. “I’ll get Brienne so we can have her opinion.”

_No! She’s even worse!_

It took a monumental effort, but Selwyn was able to salvage the men’s attire. Everything was loaded onto the ship and their group prepared to depart. Selwyn stood in the courtyard awaiting his family; blood and chosen. 

A slight chuckle rumbled his chest as he remembered standing in a courtyard so many years ago. Barristan and Jaime had rescued Ned from death, and arrived on the island to save his daughter. In that courtyard, they discussed plans for Barristan to take Brienne north to safety with Jaime not long to follow. Jaime took a dagger to the gut to pull off a ruse to save Sansa Stark. 

Selwyn had not realized it at the time. He had been staring in wonder at the two Kingsguard who would go on to become his goodson and his chosen brother. They were too gods damned perfect and honorable and handsome. They descended upon his little island and brought grandchildren, dragons, onlookers, and trade. they brought Selwyn his daughter back, and Brienne was happier than she had ever been.

Though, they also brought him much laughter, happiness, and love. He had grown quite fond of their little group… even Genna. The new House name tamed her some, but she was still liable to paint the entire sapphire isle in crimson and gold if left on her own. Thank the gods she was boarding the boat with them shortly. 

Selwyn knew that he should be grateful, truly. And he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a VERY long fic. Thanks to those who read and commented along the way. I had wanted to explore a season 1 divergence for some time, but admittedly it worried me because there is A LOT to cover. As I've spent more time on my other WIPs that will be posted within the next day or two, I started writing little breakaway chapters of life on Tarth with Braime, Gennistan, and Selwyn. I wasn't going to bother posting them, but I figured "meh... what the hell." If anyone is interested in a little of that ridiculous material (warning... it will be plotless/random much like this chapter), it is now posted as a part 2 to this fic. I'll probably post something every 2-4 days until inspiration on this AU runs out. It's very self-indulgent of me, but I haven't been able to leave these characters and pairings quite yet. Plus, the fluff is helping me cope with the angst I'm working on.


End file.
